OUT  OF  TOWN 


A    RURAL    EPISODE 


BY   BARRY    GRAY 


WITH  ILL  USTRA  TIONS 


NEW  YORK 

PUBLISHED   BY   KURD   AND   HOUGHTON 

459  BROOMK  STREET 

1867 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1866,  by 

KURD   AND   HOUQHTON, 

In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  United  States  for  the  Southern 
District  of  New  York. 


RIVERSIDE,    CAMBRIDGE : 

STEREOTYPED    AND    PRINTED    BT 

H.    0.    HOUGHTON    AND   COMPANY. 


PREFATORY   AND   DEDICATORY. 


"  Do  you  know,  Mr.  Gray,"  asked  my  estimable  wife 
early  one  morning,  as  she  raised  the  sash  and  threw  open 
the  blinds  of  the  chamber-window,  in  our  house  in  Merry- 
field  Place,  "  that  the  spring  is  here  ?  Observe  how  balmy 
is  the  air,  and  see  how  the  buds  are  swelling  on  the  trees, 
and  the  grass  sending  forth  its  green  blades  in  the  court 
yard.  Listen  to  the  song  of  that  bluebird,  perched  upon 
the,  swaying  branch  of  the  elm,  and  hearken,  too,  to  the 
buzzing  of  the  early  flies,  enjoying  the  warm  sunshine 
on  the  window  panes.  Yes,  the  spring  is  here,  my  dear, 
and  we  are  on  the  verge,  as  the  poet  hath  it,  of  the  '  deli 
cate-footed  May ' ;  and  this  reminds  me  —  oh  !  sad  anticli 
max  —  that  you  have  not  yet  obtained  a  house  for  the  com 
ing  year,  and  that,  before  ten  days  go  by,  unless  you  do, 
we  shall  be  homeless,  having  neither  a  shelter  for,  nor  a 
placa  wherein  to  lay,  our  heads." 

"  I  am  fully  aware  of  it,  my  dear,"  I  replied  ;  "  and  I  have 
for  the  last  month,  as  you  are  aware,  travelled  over  the 
greater  part  of  the  city  searching  for  a  proper  residence, 
without  finding  one.  I  have  half-decided  to  look  no 
further  "  — 

"  That  would  be  just  like  you,  Mr.  Gray,"  interrupted 
my  wife ;  "  you  would  be  willing  to  sit  down  quietly,  with 
folded  hands,  and  let  the  future  take  care  of  itself." 


iv  PREFATORY  AND  DEDICATORY. 

"  You  are  very  much  mistaken,  my  dear,"  I  said,  "  if  you 
think  so.  What  I  was  going  to  say  was,  that  I  was  half- 
decided  to  look  no  further  for  a  house  in  the  city  ;  but  to 
get  one  out  of  town.  And,  if  it  will  please  you,  I  will 
do  so." 

My  wife  having  expressed  a  decided  approbation  of  this 
plan,  I  continued :  "  Your  quotation,  my  dear,  from  the  poet 
is  so  suggestive  of  the  country  that  I  wish  we  were  there 
at  this  moment.  The  phrase,  '  delicate-footed  May,'  is  es 
pecially  good  to  employ  if  one  lives  in  the  country,  or 
even  if  he  be  a  lounger  among  the  city  parks,  and  is  given 
to  frequenting  that  Park  of  parks,  the  Central.  But  if  he 
be  condemned,  as  most  of  our  people  are,  to  the  purlieus 
of  brick  and  mortar,  and  only  sees  the  parks  as  he  rides 
by  in  the  over-crowded  car,  or  the  not  less  crowded  omni 
bus,  it  is  not  so  appropriate.  For  May,  in  most  cases,  then 
means  '  moving  time,'  when  the  year's  Lares  and  Penates 
are  torn  up  by  the  roots,  and  the  household  gods  are  borne 
from  place  to  place,  and,  in  the  midst  of  much  dirt,  con 
fusion,  and  anxiety,  planted  afresh  in  some  new  locality  to 
be  again  transferred  when  the  next '  delicate-footed  May ' 
comes  round.  The  approaching  May  promises  to  be  un 
usually  fraught  with  annoyance.  Houses  to  be  let  are  re 
markably  rare,  even  at  greatly  advanced  prices,  and  many 
a  family  will  find  itself,  on  the  first  of  May,  without  a  shel 
tering  roof." 

"  That  is  so,"  said  my  wife,  "  and  it  would  not  surprise 
me  if  we  should  be  among  the  number." 

"  Persons,"  I  continued,  not  heeding  Mrs.  Gray's  inter 
ruption,  "  who  heretofore  thought  they  could  not  live  out 
of  town,  will  find  it  not  only  cheaper,  but  healthier  and 
pleasanter,  to  have  a  house  in  the  country ;  and,  before 


PREFATORY  AND  DEDICATORY.  v 

the  year  goes  round,  will  have  come  to  understand  and  ap 
preciate  what  our  poet  means  when  he  says,  '  The  Spring 
is  here,  the  delicate-footed  May.' " 

"  Well,  if  you  intend  to  get  a  place  in  the  country,"  said 
my  wife,  "  I  think  you  had  better  be  about  it,  and  not  wait 
until  the  first  of  May  arrives." 

"I  have  already  been  seeking  a  place,"  I  replied;  "and 
among  the  pleasant  spots  which  I  visited,  a  few  days  since, 
within  an  hour's  ride  of  business,  was  the  village  of  Ford- 
ham,  —  a  quiet,  unpretentious  little  place,  nestled  on  and 
among  the  hills,  with  sundry  picturesque  houses,  and  an  air 
of  thrift  pervading  its  people  that  was  delightful  to  wit 
ness.  It  is  poetic  ground,  too  ;  for  here  Poe  once  lived, 
and  Drake  wrote  charmingly  of  the  little  river,  the  Bronx, 
which  flows  through  its  precincts.  Even  now  it  is  not  with 
out  its  literary  representative,  in  the  person  of  the  author 
of  the  tragedy  of  '  Sybil,'  John  Savage,  who  dwells  in  a 
most  hospitable  cottage,  near  St.  John's  College.  And 
this  reminds  me  that  there  is  also  much  classical  knowl 
edge  contained  in  Fordham,  —  as  those  who  meet  and  con 
verse  with  the  grave  and  dignified  priests  who  inhabit  the 
college  will  assuredly  attest.  It  was  pleasant  to  see  those 
scholastic-looking  men,  clad  in  their  long  black  cassocks, 
thoughtfully  pacing,  in  the  afternoon  sunshine  of  that  mild 
spring-day,  the  neatly-kept  walks  of  the  college- ground  ; 
and  to  hear,  wafted  upon  the  balmy  air,  the  musical  sound 
of  the  chapel  bell  ringing  the  '  Angelus.' 

"  In  company  with  my  friend,"  I  continued,  "  I  visited 
the  little  Dutch  cottage  where,  in  the  spring  of  1846,  Poe 
carried  his  young  wife,  Virginia,  to  die,  and  where  he 
passed  the  three  remaining  years  of  his  life.  It  is  a  low- 
roofed  dwelling,  scarcely  over  one  story  in  height,  —  for  the 


vi  PREFATORY  AND  DEDICATORY. 

three  narrow  windows  over  the  lowly  porch  are  only  a 
pane  of  glass  in  width,  —  and  has  suffered  no  change,  save 
such  as  Time  has  wrought,  since  Poe  made  it  his  home. 
The  clumps  of  rare  dahlias  and  beds  of  mignonette  which 
once  grew  in  its  garden,  are  no  longer  there ;  but  the 
cherry-trees,  grown  older  by  nineteen  years,  still  throw 
their  sheltering  arms  above  and  around  it ;  and  the  de 
scendants  of  the  birds  that  used  to  sing  to  him  from  its 
leafy  coverts,  doubtless  yet  build  nests  in  its  branches.  A 
favorite  resort  of  the  poet,  which  we  visited,  was  a  ledge  of 
rocky  ground  a  little  east  of  the  cottage,  partly  covered 
with  pines  and  cedars,  commanding  a  fine  view  of  the  sur 
rounding  country.  '  Here,'  says  Mrs.  Whitman,  '  through 
long  summer  days,  and  through  solitary,  star-lit  nights,  he 
loved  to  sit,  dreaming  his  gorgeous  waking  dreams,  or 
pondering  the  deep  problems  of  "  The  Universe "  —  that 
grand  "  prose-poem  "  to  which  he  devoted  the  last  and 
maturest  energies  of  his  wonderful  intellect.' 

"  Filled  with  painful  thoughts,  my  friend  and  myself 
turned  from  this  humble  cottage,  where  Edgar  Poe  dwelt 
with  sorrow  and  remorse  during  the  later  years  of  his  life, 
and,  passing  to  the  banks  of  the  Bronx,  sought,  amidst  its 
picturesque  scenery,  to  find  themes  for  less  bitter  fancies. 
The  water  rippled  over  its  rocky  bed,  and  along  its  high 
and  sloping  shores,  with  a  musical  cadence  that  brought 
peace  to  our  minds,  and  seemed  to  say  that  the  spring 
was  here,  even  the  '  delicate-footed  May.' " 

"  But,  what  about  a  house,  Mr.  Gray  ?  "  my  wife  asked. 
"  Did  you  find  one  that  would  suit  our  purpose  ?  " 

"  Well,"  I  replied,  "  I  am  not  quite  certain  ;  though,  so 
far  as  I  am  concerned,  it  is  all  that  I  would  desire ;  but 
you,  my  dear,  may  think  differently.  I  fear  that  you  will 


PREFATORY  AND  DEDICATORY.  vii 

deem  it  too  small,  and  will  be  wanting  me  to  put  on  all 
kinds  of  additions,  including  wings,  sub-cellars  and  attic- 
stories." 

"Any  house  will  be  better  than  none,  my  dear,"  my 
wife  said ;  "  and  if  you  are  satisfied  with  it,  I  think  you  had 
better  purchase  it,  and  then  we  can  add  to  or  take  away 
from  it,  as  we  may  desire." 

"  And  1 11  tell  you  what  I  '11  do,"  I  said,  "  to  help  pay 
for  it.  My  publishers  want  another  book  of  mine,  and  so 
I  '11  write  an  account  of  our  life  in  the  country,  from  spring 
until  mid-winter,  and  they  shall  publish  it  under  the  title 
of  '  OUT  OF  TOWN  ; '  and  I  will  dedicate  it,  my  dear,  to 
you,  and  the  dedication  shall  run  in  this  wise :  — 

'TO 

MY  WIFE, 

WHO,  THROUGH  SPRING-TIME  AND  HARVEST,  SUMMER  AND  WINTER,  FOR 

MANY  YEARS;  IN  JOY  AND  SORROW,  SICKNESS  AND  HEALTH, 

HAS  BEEN  TO  ME  A  SOLACE  AND   SUPPORT,  MORE 

THAN  WORDS  OF  MINE  CAN  TELL,  OR 

DEEDS  CAN  VERIFY, 

THIS  VOLUME, 

DESCRIPTIVE   OF  A   RURAL  EPISODE   IN   OUR  JOURNEY  THROUGH  LIFE, 
IS  AFFECTIONATELY  INSCRIBED.' » 

FORDHAM,  N.  Y.,  July  25iA,  1866. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTEB  PAGH 

PREFATORY iii 

I.  MR.  GRAY  GOES  INTO  THE  COUNTRY       .        .  1 
II.   WOODBINE   COTTAGE,    AND   MATTERS    THERETO 

PERTAINING 6 

III.  A  POULTRY  CONVENTION  CONVENES  BEFORE  MB. 

GRAY'S  COTTAGE 13 

IV.  MR.  GRAY  BUYS  AND  LOSES  A  BLACK-AND-TAN 

HEN 20 

V.   MR.  GRAY  AND  FAMILY  GO  A-FISHING     .        .  25 

VI.  FOURTH  OF  JULY 31 

VII.   A  LITERARY  YOUNG  LADY  COMES  TO  WOODBINE 

COTTAGE 36 

VIII.   A  NIGHT  ATTACK 41 

IX.   AN  ASSEMBLAGE  OF  ARTIST  FRIENDS     .        .  50 
X.   THE    "  FLAG    OF    FREEDOM  "    REPORTS    THEIR 

DOINGS 56 

XI.   ROBBERY  OF  MR.  GRAY'S  MELON  PATCH       .  62 

XII.   MR.  GRAY  PURCHASES  A  GOAT    ....  69 

XIII.  THE  GOAT  GETS  INTO  THE  POUND  ...  76 

XIV.  A  REMINISCENCE 81 

XV.   THREE  GOOD  THINGS  AT  WOODBINE  COTTAGE  85 

XVI.   REV.  MR.  STRICKLEBAT  MAKES  HIS  APPEARANCE  93 

XVII.   A  MEETING  AROUND  THE  LIBRARY  LAMP        .  100 

XVIII.   MR.  GRAY  TAKES  A  LESSON  IN  MILKING  .        .  109 

XIX.   LAMB  AND  WINE 114 

XX.  HOW    THE    LITTLE    GRAYS    CELEBRATED    THE 

ECLIPSE 121 

XXI.  MR.  GRAY  BRINGS  "  SOMETHING  "  FROM  TOWN  126 

XXII.   INDIAN  SUMMER 134 

XXIII.  "  HONEST  DANIEL  DUE  " 139 

XXIV.  SEVERAL  THANKSGIVING  DAYS         .        .        .  146 
XXV.   CHARTREUSE,  BILLIARDS,  AND  POETBT      .        .  153 


x  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  PAOE 

XXVI.  MR.  GEAT  HARVESTS  HIS  CROPS      .        .        .  161 
XXVII.   THE   LITTLE    FOLKS    CELEBRATE    EVACUATION 

DAY 167 

XXVIII.   MR.  GRAY'S  INDIAN  DESCENT  ....  173 

XXIX.   THE  DAY  OF  THANKSGIVING       .        .        .        .178 

XXX.   MRS.  GRAY  GOES  TO  AN  EARLY  TEA  PARTY  .  187 

XXXI.  A  FEW  TRUMPETS  ARE  INTRODUCED  .        .         .  195 

XXXII.   SANTA  CLAUS'S  VISIT 199 

XXXIII.  BUCKWHEAT  CAKES  AND  SAUSAGES    .         .        .  206 

XXXIV.  MY  CHILDREN  IN  UTOPIA  —  A  CHRISTMAS  STORY  210 
XXXV.   MY  LITTLE  ONES  AT  HOME,  WITH  MORE  OF  THE 

CHRISTMAS  STORY 219 

XXXVI.   THE    STORY   WITHIN   A    STORY   OF  CHRISTMAS 

TIMES 231 

XXXVII.   ANOTHER   PART   OF    OUR    CHRISTMAS    NIGHTS' 

ENTERTAINMENTS 237 

XXXVIII.   THE  END  OF  MY  FAMILY  IN  UTOPIA          .        .  249 

XXXIX.   WINTER  IN  TOWN  AND  OUT  OF  TOWN    .        .  261 

XL.  THE  STORY  OF  THE  LITTLE  QUAKERESS    .        .  271 

XLI.  MR.  GRAY  ATTENDS  A  TEA  PARTY          .        .  283 

XLII.   MR.  GRAY'S  YOUTHFUL  DAYS      ....  289 

XLIII.   MRS.  GRAY  RECEIVES  A  PRESENT     .        .        .  294 

XLIV.  WOODBINE  COTTAGE  GOES  TO  A  WEDDING        .  304 


OUT    OF    TOWN. 


CHAPTER  I. 

I  go  into  the  Country.  —  My  Reasons.  —  Choice  of  a  Village.  —  Woodbine 
Cottage.  —  My  Library.  —  Other  Rooms.  —  Camping-out. 

EN  spring  came,  I  resolved  to  move  into  the 
country.  There  were  numerous  reasons  which 
induced  me  to  take  this  step.  I  had  become 
thoroughly  disenchanted  with  town-life.  Ten  years  spent 
amidst  brick  walls  and  street-flagging,  without  getting,  in 
all  that  time,  a  whiff  of  country  air,  or  a  sight  of  a  blade 
of  grass,  save  what  the  city  parks  afforded,  were  as  many 
as  I  cared  to  endure.  Besides,  house-rents  in  town  had 
advanced  enormously,  and,  as  the  little  English-basement 
house  in  Merryfield  Place,  where  I  had  dwelt  so  comfort 
ably  all  these  years  of  city-life,  had  been  sold,  and  I  was 
forced  to  seek  another  habitation,  I  resolved  to  save  money 
by  purchasing  a  place  in  the  country.  Other  reasons,  quite 
as  important  —  the  health  of  my  estimable  spouse  and 
also  of  my  little  ones,  and  still  others  which  I  will  not  par 
ticularize  —  had  weight  in  leading  me  to  change  my  base. 

Now,  it  is  very  easy  to  say  that  you  will  go  into  the 
country;  you  can  make  the  declaration  at  the  breakfast- 
table  of  a  morning,  over  your  coffee  and  rolls,  as  I  did,  and 
yet  you  are  very  far  from  having  gone  into  the  country. 
The  country  covers  a  great  deal  of  ground,  even  that  portion 
of  it  which  lies  directly  in  the  neighborhood  of  the  town  in 
which  you  live,  and  it  is  not  a  simple  affair  to  decide  as  to 
the  particular  locality  wherein  you  will  establish  your  lares 
1 


2  OUT  OF   TOWN. 

et  pennies.  If  you  wish  to  be,  as  I  did,  within  easy  access 
of  the  city, — I  believe  "  within  an  hour's  ride  "  is  the  proper 
phrase  to  employ,  —  you  will  be  obliged,  not  only  to  visit  a 
large  number  of  "suburban  retreats,"  but  also  to  hold 
many  conversations  with  your  wife  in  relation  to  the  affair. 
There  are  many  pros  and  cons  to  be  considered  before  you 
come  to  a  decision.  The  healthfulness  of  the  place,  its 
society,  its  religious  and  educational  advantages,  its  prox 
imity  and  facilities  for  getting  to  town,  the  skill  and  char 
acter  of  its  physician  ;  even  its  butcher,  its  groceryman,  and 
shoemaker  have  to  be  thought  of;  and,  not  least,  though 
last  in  the  list,  the  properties  of  its  drinking-water  should 
be  investigated  before  you  arrive  at  a  final  decision. 

I  will  not  say  that  I  was  wise  enough  to  attend  to  all 
these  matters  previous  to  becoming  a  resident  of  the  little 
village  which  has  the  honor  of  numbering  me  among  its 
inhabitants ;  though  concerning  some  of  these  points  I  did 
inquire,  and  I  must  say  that  the  answers  I  received  were 
all  highly  favorable.  The  persons,  however,  whom  I  inter 
rogated  were,  to  a  certain  extent,  interested  in  having  me 
reside  among  them,  and,  therefore,  were  disposed  to  make 
everything  appear  of  a  rose-color.  After  all,  it  is  not  a 
bad  place  I  selected ;  and  as  I  presume  that  there  are  very 
few  gardens  of  Eden  within  the  area  of  twenty  miles  of 
New  York,  I  am  contented  with  it.  I  visited  a  good  many 
spots  that  professed  to  be  somewhat  in  the  Eden  line,  but 
found  none  that  would,  in  any  marked  degree,  compare 
with  the  original  Paradise.  It  was  not  pleasant,  either,  to 
go  among  strangers ;  and,  as  I  am  a  somewhat  quiet  and  ' 
retiring  individual,  not  prone  to  form  new  relations,  I  feared 
I  might  dwell  many  years  in  sundry  of  the  villages  I  ex 
plored,  without  making  the  acquaintance  of  any  one  there 
in,  except  the  ticket-agent  at  the  railroad  station.  So, 
when  a  savage  literary  friend  of  mine  commended  the  vil 
lage  of  Fordham,  where  he  resided,  as  a  desirable  location 
in  which  to  place  my  household  gods,  I  at  once  decided  to 


OUT   OF   TOWN.  3 

become  a  Fordhamerer,  and  the  owner  of  the  little  wood 
bine-clad  cottage  he  had  selected  for  me. 

The  house  is  small,  but,  as  the  maid-of-all-work  re 
marked,  "  mighty-convenient."  She  declared  to  my  wife  that 
she  could  stand  at  the  bottom  of  the  stairs,  in  the  hall,  and 
sweep  every  room  in  the  house  without  moving  more  than 
a  foot  either  way ;  and,  from  the  slight  manner  in  which 
she  performs  this  little  task,  I  am  disposed  to  think  that 
she  acts  up  to  the  letter  of  her  remark. 

I  found  it  a  work  of  much  difficulty  to  get  all  of  my 
household  effects  into  its  apartments.  The  main  thing 
with  me  was  to  obtain  a  place  for  my  books.  So  I  selected 
the  largest  and  best  room  in  the  house  for  my  library,  and 
told  my  wife  that  all  the  others  were  at  her  disposal.  She 
seemed  to  think,  however,  that  I  had  taken  the  lion's  share, 
and  asked  me  what  she  should  do  for  a  parlor.  I  advised 
her  to  take  the  adjoining  apartment,  but  she  said  she  in 
tended  that  for  the  dining-room. 

"  Then  the  one  still  beyond,"  I  said. 

"  Oh  !  that  is  the  kitchen,"  she  replied. 

"  Perhaps,"  I  suggested,  "  one  of  the  four  up-stairs  will 
answer." 

"We  require  them  all,"  she  declared,  "for  sleeping 
apartments." 

"  Well,  then,  my  dear,"  I  replied,  "  I  don't  know  what 
you  will  do.  But  what  is  the  necessity  of  having  a  parlor 
at  all  ? " 

"  Why,  to  entertain  our  friends  in,  when  they  call  to  see 
us,"  she  replied. 

"  Oh  !  if  that  be  all,"  I  replied,  "  the  library  will  do  well 
enough.  In  fact,  it  is  a  much  better  place  for  that  purpose 
than  a  parlor  ;  for  what,  after  all,  is  a  parlor,  with  its 
rosewood  furniture,  satin  hangings,  and  gilded  ornaments, 
compared  to  a  library,  with  its  books,  pictures,  and  oaken 
furniture,  as  a  place  wherein  to  entertain  a  thoughtfully 
inclined  person  ?  It  is  a  pleasant  place  withal  wherein 


4  OUT  OF   TOWN. 

to  pass  a  rainy  day.  The  patter  of  the  rain  upon  the  win 
dows  seems  a  fit  accompaniment  to  the  rhythm  of  the  poem 
we  may  be  reading ;  and  the  gusts  of  wind  that,  ever  and 
anon,  shake  the  casement,  seem  appropriate  to  the  weird 
tale  we  are  perusing.  Then,  again,  if  it  be  a  sunny  instead 
of  a  rainy  day,  what  more  delightful  spot  can  one  find  to 
while  away  the  hours  in  than  this  same  library  !  When 
surrounded  by  books  we  never  feel  lonely.  They  are  silent 
but  agreeable  companions,  and  in  their  society  we  may  ob 
tain  both  amusement  and  instruction.  How  delightful  it 
is,  too,  to  sit  down  before  a  package  of  new  books !  How 
carefully  one  unties  the  twine  that  binds  it,  and,  unfolding 
the  thick  brown  paper,  lays  bare  the  fresh  and  welcome 
volumes.  The  surroundings  of  a  library,  toe  are  all  sug 
gestive  of  interesting  topics  of  conversation ,  while  your 
parlor  proper,  with  its  collection  of  knicknackeries,  only 
reminds  one  of  the  fashionable  frivolities  of  life.  Not,  I 
own,  my  dear,  that  we  are  heavily  burdened  with  expen 
sive  parlor  articles,  though  there  are  the  lounges,  and  pier- 
glasses,  and  piano,  and  —  I  declare,  I  don't  know  where  we 
can  put  that  piano.  I  am  inclined  to  think  that  we  shall 
be  obliged  to  return  it  to  the  maker's  for  safe  keeping 
until  we  can  make  room  for  it.  Ah  !  I  have  it,  my  dear ; 
I  '11  build  on  a  parlor.  A  wing  added  to  the  house  will 
materially  improve  its  appearance,  and  give  us  all  the  addi 
tional  room  we  require." 

Therefore  it  is  that,  until  I  put  a  wing  to  my  cottage,  we 
shall  live  without  a  parlor,  and  have  to  entertain  our  friends 
in  the  library.  If  more  guests  come  than  we  can  accom 
modate  within  the  house,  we  can  take  possession  of  the 
adjoining  orchard,  or  adjourn  to  the  shade  of  the  neighbor- 
ing  groves.  One  cannot  do  this  if  he  lives  in  the  town ; 
there,  if  his  house  is  ever  so  crowded  with  company,  he  has 
to  make  the  best  of  it,  and  put  up  with  all  kind  of  incon 
veniences.  But  out  of  town,  on  a  pinch,  especially  in 
pleasant  summer  weather,  if  one's  sleeping  accommodations 


OUT   OF  TOWN.  5 

are  limited,  he  can  swing  hammocks  under  the  trees  for  his 
friends,  and,  my  word  for  it,  if  they  like  camping-out,  they 
will  enjoy  it  more  than  being  cooped  up  in  a  small  bed 
room.  Some  night,  when  the  children  cry  so  as  to  keep 
me  awake,  I  will  abdicate  my  own  room,  and  essay  a  lodg 
ing  out-of-doors. 


OUT  OF  TOWN. 


CHAPTER  II. 

Getting  Settled.  —  Carpets.  —  Refrigerator.  —  My  Heater.  —  Taylor's  Aster- 
ale.  —  An  Infernal  Machine.  —  The  Elephant.  —  Household  Changes.  — 
Cows,  Milkmaids,  and  Milk.  —  A  Wise  Maiden.  —  Ice-men.  —  Bronx  vs. 
Harlem.  —  My  Exordium.  —  Drake's  Verses.  —  The  Majority. 

>T  takes  a  long  time  for  a  family  to  "  get  to 
rights "  after  moving  into  the  country.  The 
carpets,  which  were  fitted  to  the  rooms  in  your 
city  home,  seem  stubbornly  disinclined  to  take  kindly  to 
their  new  apartments.  As  a  general  rule,  on  these  occa 
sions,  they  are  too  small,  though,  in  the  present  case,  I 
will  give  them  the  credit  of  being  much  larger  than  is 
necessary.  This,  as  my  wife  remarked,  is  a  good  fault ; 
though  how,  if  it  be  a  fault,  it  can  at  the  same  time  be 
a  good  one,  is  past  my  comprehension.  When  I  said 
as  much  to  my  wife,  she  answered  that,  if  I  could  not 
understand  her  meaning,  I  might  remain  in  ignorance  ; 
but  that  to  her  it  was  perfectly  clear  and  simple.  As  I 
before  remarked,  the  carpets  are  all  too  large  ;  but  when 
I  suggested  the  expediency  of  cutting  them  down  to  the 
proper  size,  my  wife  objected  to  it,  on  the  ground  that  it 
would  unsuit  them  for  larger  rooms,  and,  therefore,  pre 
ferred  to  turn  them  under  at  the  ends.  As  I  purpose  to 
live  many  years  in  this  little  house,  and  expect  to  wear  out 
several  carpets  in  the  mean  while,  I  could  not  fully  appre 
ciate  the  advantage  to  be  derived  from  turning  them  in  ; 
but,  as  I  have  learned  the  wisdom  of  not  making  objections 
to  the  economies  of  housekeeping,  I  held  my  peace  on  the 
subject.  I  notice,  however,  a  slight  inequality  in  the  sur 
face  of  the  carpeting  in  the  various  rooms,  making  a  ridge- 
like  elevation,  extending  across  the  rooms  about  three  feet 


OUT  OF  TOWN.  7 

from  the  base-board,  which  does  not  strike  me  as  being  ex 
actly  the  thing. 

Fortunately,  my  bookcases  all  fitted  properly  into  the 
niches  wherein  I  desired  to  place  them,  and  it  was  not 
necessary  to  saw  off  any  projecting  mouldings  to  enable 
them  to  occupy  their  appropriate  spheres  in  the  library. 
My  wife  found  some  difficulty,  however,  in  this  paiticular, 
with  a  bureau  and  a  sofa,  which  articles  seriously  objected 
to  being  placed  in  the  particular  locations  wherein  she 
desired  to  see  them.  The  refrigerator,  too,  a  large,  octag 
onal-shaped  one,  had  to  be  nearly  taken  apart  before  we 
could  get  it  through  a  certain  doorway.  Then,  too,  the 
heater,  an  immense  thing  that  could  n't  be  got  apart,  had 
to  remain  out-of-doors,  upon  the  front  piazza,  for  more 
than  a  month,  until  I  could  get  a  mason  to  come  and  make 
a  passage-way  for  it  into  the  cellar ;  and,  after  that,  it  re 
quired  three  men  three  hours  to  get  it  in  ;  nor  could  they 
have  accomplished  it  in  that  time  had  they  not  fortified 
themselves,  every  five  minutes,  with  mugs  of  Aster-ale,  a 
barrel  of  which  stood  conveniently  at  hand. 

When  I  waggishly  proposed  to  one  of  them  —  thinking 
the  ale  would  not  hold  out  —  to  go  to  the  village  saloon, 
and  get  some  lager  and  cheese,  he  answered  me  in  verse, 
that  — 

"  Lager  might  do  for  burly  Dutchmen, 

To  wash  down  Schweitzer  cheese  severe; 
But  give  to  Yankees,  when  they  're  working, 
Full  mugs  of  Taylor's  sparkling  beer." 

While  the  heater  was  ornamenting  the  exterior  of  my 
dwelling,  it  was  a  source  of  much  interest  to  the  small  lads 
of  the  village,  who  assembled  in  squads  of  ten  or  a  dozen, 
outside  of  the  garden  palings,  and  gazed  at  it  with  wonder 
ing  and  curious  eyes.  At  first  a  report  got  abroad  that  it 
was  a  sort  of  infernal  machine,  or  torpedo,  —  one  which  I 
had  picked  up  off  Charleston  Harbor ;  and  I  noticed  that 
persons  going  by  the  house  usually  gave  it  a  wide  berth, 


8  OUT  OF   TOWN. 

imitating,  to  a  certain  extent,  the  conduct  of  the  opposites 
of  the  Good  Samaritan,  who  passed  by  on  the  other  side. 
But,  as  day  by  clay  wore  on,  and  it  failed  to  explode,  or,  in 
fact,  go  off  in  any  way,  their  confidence  returned,  and  a 
complete  revolution,  as  it  were,  took  place  in  their  actions. 
They  began  to  cast  ridicule  at  both  the  heater  and  the 
owner,  and  the  boys  took  to  pelting  it  with  green  apples 
from  the  neighboring  orchard.  One  man,  indeed,  had  the 
audacity  to  ask  me  what  I  intended  to  do  with  my  elephant. 
If  he  had  not  been  a  particular  friend  of  mine,  I  should 
have  knocked  him  down  ;  as  it  was,  I  opened  a  bottle  of 
wine  for  him.  The  next  day  I  got  the  mason,  as  aforesaid, 
and  had  my  "  elephant"  taken  into  the  cellar.  I  count 
greatly  upon  the  warming  power  of  that  "elephant"  dur 
ing  the  coming  winter,  and  expect  with  it  to  keep  my  en 
tire  cottage  at  summer  temperature. 

Although  we  have  been  in  our  new  home  —  which  I 
have  called  "  Woodbine  Cottage,"  from  the  fact  that  a  wood 
bine,  or,  after  all,  it  may  be  a  honeysuckle,  grows  about  the 
front  veranda  —  now  nearly  three  months,  I  cannot  yet 
honestly  declare  that  we  are  quite  settled.  Every  few 
days  my  wife  makes  some  important  change  in  the  location 
of  the  furniture.  Tables,  chairs,  bureaus,  sofas,  and  bed 
steads  dance  an  irregular  jig  about  the  house.  That  which 
is  my  bedroom  one  night  is  the  children's  nursery  the  next. 
And  because  I  eat  my  breakfast  in  the  morning,  before  I 
go  to  town,  in  one  room,  it  is  no  proof  to  me  that,  when  I 
return  in  the  afternoon,  I  shall  eat  my  dinner  there.  For 
tunately,  it  is  not  an  easy  matter  to  move  bookcases,  else  I 
might  expect,  some  day,  to  find  my  library  transferred  to 
the  garret.  The  fact  is,  my  wife  has  a  liking  for  change. 
I  do  not  mean,  now,  the  small  change  which  she  surrepti 
tiously  extracts  from  my  pocket-book,  whenever  I  leave  it 
lying  loosely  around,  but  that  change  which  is  akin  to  a 
love  of  novelty,  and  which,  to  say  the  least,  is  annoying  to 
any  one  who,  like  myself,  has  a  regard  for  old  landmarks. 


OUT   OF    TOWN.  9 

I  have  no  doubt,  however,  that  in  course  of  time  —  if  we 
both  live  so  long  —  our  furniture  will,  as  a  general  thing, 
get  into  its  proper  place,  to  be  disturbed  only  semi-annually, 
at  the  regular  spring  and  fall  house-cleanings.  Though  I 
confess,  too,  that  I  already  begin  to  dread  the  time  when  I 
shall  build  the  additions  to  the  house  —  the  parlor  and 
kitchen  —  which  I  contemplate  doing,  and,  indeed,  have 
promised  rny  wife  to  effect  in  the  autumn.  It  will  be  very 
much  like  "  moving-day "  when  those  additions  are  com 
pleted  ;  and  it  will  be  a  good  thing  for  me  if  I  can  make 
business  which  will  detain  me  in  town  for  a  few  days  about 
that  time. 

Everybody  in  the  country  ought  to  keep  a  cow,  —  at  least, 
every  one  who  has  a  family  of  young  children  who  like 
milk.  As  yet,  I  have  only  inquired  for  a  cow.  And 
though  several  respectable-looking  cows  did,  in  an  inde 
pendent  manner,  make  me  an  early  morning-call,  and, 
opening  the  gate  with  their  horns,  walk  into  the  enclosure 
where  my  youthful  beets,  and  cabbages,  and  peas,  and 
beans  are  growing,  and  eliminated  their  tender  shoots  from 
the  parent  roots,  I  failed  to  appreciate  their  visit,  or  to  do 
them  the  honor  of  becoming  their  owner.  On  the  con 
trary,  I  drove  them  forth  with  opprobrious  epithets,  ac 
companied  with  sticks  and  stones  ;  and  afterward  put  up  a 
shingle  sign  on  the  fence  to  the  effect  that  cows  could  not 
be  pastured  in  my  garden,  and  that  hereafter  all  such  tres 
passers  would  be  taken  to  the  pound,  and  there  pounded. 
Since  then  I  am  happy  to  state  that  my  garden-gate  has 
remained  unlifted. 

The  very  day  we  took  possession  of  our  cottage,  a  gen 
erous  procession  of  milkmaids,  bearing  huge  cans  of  milk, 
came  to  welcome  and  ask  us  to  purchase  milk  of  them. 
Not  knowing  that  my  wife  had  already  engaged  milk  of 
one  of  the  aforesaid  maidens,  I  entered  into  an  agreement 

O 

with  another  to  supply  us,  twice  a  day,  with  the  pure  arti 
cle  ;  while  a  third,  whom  neither  of  us  had  engaged,  but 


10  OUT  OF  TOWN. 

who  acted  upon  her  own  responsibility,  and  further  argued, 
in  no  unskilful  manner,  her  right  to  supply  us,  because  she 
had,  for  several  years,  been  the  sole  milkmaid  of  the  family 
who  had  occupied  the  house  previous  to  our  taking  posses 
sion  of  it,  also  declared  her  intention  of  favoring  us,  daily, 
with  all  we  might  require.  The  result  was  that  we  had  a 
superabundance  of  milk,  and  not  a  small  part  of  it  soured 
on  our  hands. 

When  my  wife  mentioned  this  little  circumstance  to  the 
three  milkmaids,  they  each  declared  it  to  be  a  fortunate 
circumstance.  "  For,  you  know,  ma'am,"  they  said,  "  noth 
ing  can  be  better  than  sour  milk  for  making  biscuits 
with." 

But  as  my  wife  did  not  propose  to  live  by  biscuits  alone, 
nor  yet  by  milk,  she  gave  the  lacteal-bearing  maidens  to 
understand  that,  after  the  following  day,  she  should  only 
take  milk  from  one  of  them.  That  afternoon  the  wisest 
of  those  three  maidens  —  the  one,  evidently,  who  knew 
how  to  keep  her  lamp  trimmed  and  burning  —  brought  to 
my  wife  a  basket  containing  a  dozen  duck's  eggs,  as  a  pres 
ent.  It  is  scarcely  necessary  to  add  that  she  is  the  favored 
one,  now,  who  supplies  us  with  milk,  while  the  other  two 
may  be  regarded  as  milkmaids  all  forlorn. 

After  having  settled  satisfactorily  the  matter  of  the  milk 
business,  another  difficulty  arose  regarding  the  ice-man. 
It  might  be  presumed  that,  taught  by  experience,  neither 
my  wife  nor  myself  would  have  again  duplicated  our  or 
ders,  as  we  did  on  the  milk  question.  Owing,  however,  to 
the  supposition,  which  each  of  us  arrived  at,  that,  while 
there  might  be  many  milkmaids,  there  was  little  probabil 
ity  of  there  being,  in  so  small  a  village,  more  than  one  ice 
man,  and  desirous,  during  the  hot  weather,  of  adding  to 
the  attractiveness  of  our  well-water,  and  having  an  eye, 
also,  to  the  better  preservation  of  our  meats  and  fancy 
dishes,  each,  unknown  to  the  other,  engaged  for  the  season 
a  supply  of  ice,  to  be  delivered  every  other  day.  Several 


OUT  OF  TOWN.  11 

days  elapsed  before  we  discovered  that  we  were  in  the 
receipt,  daily,  of  a  hundred  pounds  of  ice.  When,  how 
ever,  our  large  refrigerator  began  to  groan  under  its  bur 
den,  and  we  found  that  we  had  a  larger  quantity  of  ice  on 
hand  than  was  necessary,  mutual  explanations  revealed  the 
fact  that  we  were  obtaining  more  than  our  share  of  the 
product  of  the  polar  regions.  Of  course,  we  resolved  to 
dispense  with  one  of  the  Arctic  explorers ;  but  which  of 
the  two,  became  the  question  to  be  solved.  My  wife,  for 
her  part,  advocated  the  retention  of  the  Harlem  River 
man,  because  she  had  engaged  him,  and,  besides,  she  had  a 
lingering  regard  for  the  High  Bridge,  which  spanned  it, 
and  which  structure  she  had  more  than  once  visited,  not 
only  with  me,  but  with  other  gentlemen  friends,  before  she 
was  married.  This,  however,  had  no  weight  with  me,  and 
I  strongly  advocated  the  retention  of  the  Bronx  River 
man. 

"  A  person  who,  evidently,"  I  said  to  my  wife,  "  possesses 
finer  poetical  instincts  than  he  who  cuts  his  ice  in  the  Har 
lem.  For,  recall  to  mind,  my  dear,  the  fact  that  one  of  our 
charmingest  poets,  the  friend  of  my  friend  Fitz-Greene 
Halleck,  who  lived  in  the  early  part  of  the  present  century, 
wrote  most  delightfully  of  this  stream.  Remember  he 
sung,  — 

'  The  humbird  shook  his  sun -touched  wings  around, 

The  blue-finch  carolled  in  the  still  retreat, 
The  antic  squirrel  capered  on  the  ground 

Where  lichens  made  a  carpet  for  his  feet. 
Through  the  transparent  waves  the  ruddy  winkle 
Shot  up,  in  glimmering  sparks,  his  red  fin's  tiny  twinkle.' 

Mark  the  phrase,  my  love,  he  used,  —  '  transparent  wave,' 
—  and,  of  course,  the  ice  is  transparent.  But  you  don't 
hear  anything  about  the  Harlem's  transparent  wave.  No, 
no,  my  dear ;  it  is  very  thick,  muddy,  and  the  ice,  doubt 
less,  is  equally  wanting  in  transparency.  No  poet,  my  love, 
ever  wrote  a  line  about  the  Harlem  River,  unless,  perhaps, 


12  OUT  OF  TOWN. 

one  of  the  early  settlers,  who  spelt  it  Ilarlaem,  may  have 
indited  something  in  Low  Dutch  concerning  it.  To  be 

o  o 

sure,  my  dear,  the  Bronx  man  charges  a  little  more  for  his 
ice  than  does  the  Harlem  man  ;  but  are  we  to  be  governed 
by  dollars  and  cents?  Shall  we  not  concede  something  to 
the  poetical  phase  of  the  subject  ?  Is  not  the  frozen  '  trans 
parent  wave  '  of  the  Bronx  more  valuable  than  the  ice  of 
the  Harlem,  or  even  of  the  Croton  ?  To  be  sure  it  is,  and 
I  for  one,  my  dear,  —  and  I  believe  I  am  the  majority  on 
this  occasion,  —  give  my  entire  vote  in  favor  of  the  Bronx. 
And,  with  all  due  respect  for  your  youthful  feelings  in  this 
matter,  I  think  I  may  safely  declare  that  the  Bronx  man  is 
unanimously  elected  to  supply  us  with  ice  during  the  sea 
son." 

And,  as  Mrs.  Gray  vouchsafed  no  reply,  it  was  duly  car 
ried  and  recorded. 


OUT  OF  TOWN.  ]3 


CHAPTER  HI. 

Making  a  Garden.  —  Pens,  Beans,  Corn,  and  other  Greeneries.  —  Spring 
Chickens.  —  Egg-no<?g.  —  The  Moral  thereof.  — An  unexpected  Poultry 
Show.  —  Harnuni  outdone.  —  Game-cocks. — An  Indignant  Female. — 
Blissful  Ignorance.  —  Jack.  —  Shanghais  and  Bantams.  —  An  English 
Rooster.  —  End  of  the  Show. — Mrs.  Gray's  Investment.  —  A  Black- 
and-Tan  Hen.  —  The  Rule  of  Thirty.  —  To  be  Continued. 

'INCE  I  have  come  into  the  country  I  find  myself 
continually  seeking  reasonable  excuses  for  not  go 
ing  into  town  every  day.  While  I  was  engaged 
in  planting  my  half-acre  garden,  I  had  no  difficulty  in  the 
matter.  I  was  obliged 'to  give  a  day  each  to  my  peas,  my 
beans,  my  corn,  and  my  potatoes.  I  had  decided  to  do  all 
the  work  myself,  and,  therefore,  it  was  really  necessary  for 
me  to  stay  at  home  to  accomplish  it.  To  be  sure,  after 
working  an  hour  or  two  of  a  morning,  under  the  hot  sun,  I 
found  it  agreeable  to  my  feelings  to  retire  within  the  house 
and  take  a  long  nooning  of  five  or  six  hours,  relieving  the 
tedium  of  the  time  with  a  book,  an  iced  punch,  a  saucer  of 
strawberries  and  cream,  and  a  cigar.  In  this  way  I  man 
aged  to  make  a  good  many  working-holidays  for  myself. 
I  saved,  too,  to  some  extent,  my  hands  from  being  as  blis 
tered  as  they  would  have  been  had  I  worked  steadily  on 
the  twelve  hours'  rule.  As  it  was,  I  had  my  share  of  these 
little  annoyances,  and  never,  since  the  time  I  was  a  school 
boy,  and  was  regularly  feruled  by  my  tutor,  have  my  hands 
presented  as  many  blisters.  But  I  persevered  in  my  agri 
cultural  efforts,  and,  after  a  reasonable  time,  I  had  the 
satisfaction  of  seeing  all  the  seeds  I  had  planted  —  with 
the  exception  of  the  corn,  which  the  hens,  unknown  to  me, 
had  scratched  up  —  break  through  the  soil,  watered  with 


14  OUT  OF  TOWN. 

the  sweat  of  my  brow,  and  send  their  green  and  tender 
shoots  into  the  air.  The  corn  I  replanted,  or,  rather,  I 
hired  a  gardener  to  do  it ;  for,  although  my  intentions  were 
good  in  regard  to  doing  all  the  work  myself,  after  the  first 
day  I  relinquished  the  greater  part  of  the  labor  to  an  older 
hand  than  mine,  and  with  very  gratifying  results,  as  my 
table,  which  is  chiefly  supplied  with  vegetables  of  my  own 
raising,  sufficiently  attests. 

I  am  quite  certain  that,  even  allowing  for  the  wages  I 
paid  my  gardener,  I  am  obtaining  my  peas  and  string- 
beans,  my  beets,  lettuce,  and  radishes  for  much  less  than  I 
could  purchase  them  in  town,  —  besides  having  the  ad 
vantage  of  getting  them  fresh  from  the  garden.  My  corn 
is  beginning  to  show  its  silken  floss  ;  my  tomatoes  are  just 
coloring ;  my  Lima  beans  are  filling  out  famously  ;  my 
cucumbers  are  ripening ;  my  squashes  are  turning  their 
yellow  sides  up  to  the  sun ;  and  my  melons  will  be  ready 
for  eating  ere  the  month  goes  out. 

Then,  too,  in  the  matter  of  spring  chickens,  I  am  not 
badly  off;  and  as  for  eggs,  I  get  scores  of  them  every  day. 
It  is  very  handy,  my  wife  thinks,  to  have  plenty  of  eggs  in 
the  house ;  and,  aside  from  their  availability  in  the  matter 
of  custards,  puddings,  cakes,  etc.,  they  are  very  convenient 
in  concocting  noggs  and  mulls.  When,  one  rainy  Satur 
day,  not  long  since,  I  neglected  to  report  at  the  granite 
building  in  Wall  Street,  and  remained  at  home,  ostensibly 
to  do  a  little  weeding,  but  really  to  recruit  my  exhausted 
system,  —  exhausted  by  a  too  close  application  to  govern 
mental  work,  —  by  making  a  lounging  time  of  it,  the  savage 
literary  friend,  referred  to  in  a  former  sketch,  who  came 
to  see  me,  insinuatingly  suggested  that  an  egg-nogg  would 
not  be  a  bad  thing  to  take.  Thereupon  my  freshest-laid 
eggs  came  into  use ;  the  ancestral  punch-bowl  was  brought 
out ;  a  bottle  of  old  Jamaica,  which  I  would  be  willing  to 
declare  had  lain  in  my  cellar  twenty  years,  if  I  had  only 
lived  here  that  time,  or  even  half  of  it,  was  opened ;  a  quart 


OUT  OF  TOWN.  15 

of  pure  milk,  with  the  cream  beginning  to  rise  on  the  sur 
face,  was  obtained  ;  and,  with  a  quantum  sitfficit  of  sugar 
and  nutmeg,  a  drink  worthy  of  being  commemorated  in 
verse  by  Tom  Moore  was  concocted  and  quaffed,  while 
conviviality  and  good-fellowship  ruled  the  hour.  Now,  for 
the  moral :  You  may  make  and  drink  egg-nogg  in  the  city 
as  often  as  you  please,  and  you  may  regard  it  as  very  fine ; 
but,  until  you  make  and  drink  it  in  the  country,  using  fresh 
eggs  and  new  milk  in  its  composition,  you  can  have  no 
idea  of  its  excellence.  It  is  then  a  draught  fit  for  the  best 
of  good  fellows.  It  warms  the  cockles  of  your  heart.  It 
cheers,  but  does  not  —  unless  you  drink  too  much  of  it, 
which,  although  sorely  tempted,  you  will  not  do,  being  a 
reasonable  human  being  —  inebriate.  It  inclines  you  to 
be  merry,  and  you  are  disposed,  under  its  warming  influ 
ence,  to  sing  patriotic  songs,  and  recall  to  mind  all  manner 
of  pleasant  scenes.  Therefore  does  it  seem  to  me  that, 
among  other  reasons  for  going  out  of  town,  which  I  might 
but  did  not  name,  is  that  thereby  I  might  the  better  ob 
tain  a  bowl  of  egg-nogg. 

The  allusion  made  above  to  spring  chickens  reminds  me 
of  a  little  venture  which  my  estimable  wife  made  in  the 
poultry  line,  when  we  first  came  to  Woodbine  Cottage. 
Aware  of  the  fact  that  it  is  the  proper  thing  to  have  hens 
in  the  country,  and  knowing,  too,  that  hens  are  disposed  to 
lay  eggs,  and  convinced,  moreover,  that  fresh  eggs  for 
breakfast  are  desirable,  she  gave  the  majority  of  the  milk 
maids  who  patronized  us  to  understand  that  she  would  like 
to  become  the  purchaser  of  a  few  hens.  Of  course,  this 
desire  of  hers  was  noised  about  among  the  country  folks 
for  miles  around,  and,  as  the  information  spread  from 
mouth  to  mouth,  and  from  neighbor  to  neighbor,  the  num 
ber  of  fowls  increased  from  the  original  half-dozen  up  to  a 
hundred  or  more.  When,  therefore,  the  country  folks  be 
gan  to  ride  up  to  the  house,  with  crates  and  baskets  filled 
with  crowing  cocks,  cackling  hens,  and  chirping  chickens, 


16  OUT  OF   TOWN. 

it  was  as  if  Barnum  were  opening  a  new  poultry  show. 
The  display  was  something  quite  magnificent,  and,  as  it 
occurred  on  one  of  my  stay-at-home  days,  I  had  the  full 
benefit  of  it.  Fortunately  my  wife,  having  secured  from 
the  first  person  who  arrived  the  half-dozen  fowls  she  de 
sired,  was  not  obliged  to  receive  the  remaining  members 
of  the  procession  individually  as  they  drove  up  to  the  gate 
way.  This  part  of  the  proceedings  fell  to  me,  and,  if  I 
may  believe  my  wife,  who  kept  watch  of  me  through  the 
window-blinds  from  within  the  library,  1  acquitted  myself 
with  great  dignity  and  decision.  To  tell  the  truth,  I  was 
rather  overworked  on  that  occasion,  and,  after  the  first 
score  of  poultry-dealers  had  passed  before  me,  and  paraded 
their  stock  on  the  open  veranda  where  I  sat,  I  began  to 
think  the  affair  not  so  amusing  as  it  struck  me  it  would  be 
when  it  commenced.  I  did  n't  mind  the  men  so  much  as 
I  did  the  women ;  for  I  found  that,  by  offering  the  former 
mugs  of  ale,  after  declining  to  deal  with  them,  I  quite 
soothed  their  irritable  feelings.  Indeed  the  effect  was 
much  like  pouring  oil  upon  water ;  but  with  the  women, 
who  did  n't  take  kindly  to  ale,  it  was  more  like  casting 
oil  upon  fire.  One,  especially,  flared  up  in  fine  style,  and 
declared,  with  much  shaking  of  chicken  feathers  in  my 
face,  that  she  had  come  ten  miles,  in  the  broiling  sun,  to 
sell  me  those  fowls,  and  that  it  was  n't  treating  her  decently 
to  refuse  to  buy  them.  That  she  would  let  her  son  —  for 
she  chanced  to  be  a  widow,  a  circumstance  which  I  found 
was  generally  the  case  with  my  visitors  —  know  of  my 
meanness,  and  she  guessed  he  'd  settle  the  matter  with  me, 
and  let  me  see  that,  if  I  did  come  from  the  city,  and  put 
on  airs  because  I  was  rich,  —  I  forgave  the  woman  her 

'  O 

blissful  ignorance  of  my  pecuniary  resources,  —  I  was  not 
going  to  ride  over  her  and  hers  rough-shod. 

Now,  there  are  those  fowls,  she  continued,  three  roosters 
and  three  hens,  paired  and  mated  from  the  egg.  No  Mor- 
monism  or  any  of  that  kind  of  foolery  was  allowed  in  her 


OUT  OF  TOWN.  17 

poulty-yard  ;  and,  if  I  did  n't  decide  mighty  quick  to  take 
'em,  she  'd  get  even  with  me  before  the  day  was  over.  But 
I  was  very  decided,  and  refused  to  purchase  them  or  par 
ley  with  her  any  longer.  She  then  offered  them  to  me  for 
half  price,  —  she  had  asked  five  dollars  a  pair,  —  but  still  I 
declined ;  though  I  compromised  the  matter,  by  recom 
mending  her  to  visit  my  savage  literary  friend,  just  above 
me  on  the  hill,  who  would  buy  them,  I  thought,  provided 
he  could  get  them  at  a  bargain.  I  think  he  must  have 
bought  them,  for  the  woman  never  came  back  to  me  ;  and, 
besides,  I  have  noticed  of  late  that  his  dog  Jack,  a  wiry 
terrier  of  surpassing  ugliness,  has  grown  quite  plump,  as  if 
he  had  been  living  on  cocks  and  hens.  Indeed,  the  feath 
ers,  both  tail  and  pin,  which  ornament  his  shaggy  coat, 
would  serve  to  indicate  this  to  be  something  more  than  a 
mere  unfounded  supposition. 

The  first  arrival  of  poultry  had  been  at  six  o'clock  in 
the  morning,  and  from  that  hour  until  past  noon  Union 
Avenue,  in  front  of  my  house,  was  choked  up  with  coming 
and  departing  wagon-trains.  Every  variety  of  the  gallina 
ceous  breed,  from  the  ungainly  Shanghai,  all  legs,  to  the 
pert  little  Bantam,  without  any  legs  of  which  to  speak,  was 
represented.  I  was  greatly  tempted,  at  one  time,  to  buy  a 
perfect  fac-simile  of  the  "  old  red  "  that  whilom  strutted 
and  crowed  at  my  Hillside  home ;  also  a  noble  English 
rooster,  black  as  the  ace  of  spades,  graceful  in  his  move 
ments  as  Hamlet,  and  possessing  a  splendid  scarlet  comb, 
which  waved  like  a  red  flag  from  a  citadel.  There  were 
sundry  game-cocks  in  the  collection,  and  several  times  I 
was  invited  out  into  the  road  to  see  a  fight  going  on  be 
tween  a  couple  of  them  ;  but  I  invariably  declined,  prefer 
ring  to  remain  on  my  own  veranda,  and  witness  it  from  a 
safe  distance.  Besides,  I  did  not  know  but  that  I  might 
be  asked  to  engage  in  combat  with  one  or  more  of  the 
disappointed  poultrymen,  and  that  was  something  I  would 
rather  not  do.  My  barrel  of  Aster-ale,  too,  had  given  out, 
2 


18  OUT   OF  TOWN. 

and  I  had  been  obliged  to  send  down  to  Teuton  Hall,  in 
the  village,  for  a  keg  of  lager  ;  but,  somehow,  the  company 
outside  the  garden  palings  did  n't  take  kindly  to  it,  and 
failed  to  prove  themselves  good  representatives  of  the 
Sanger-fest. 

When,  at  last,  they  found  that  longer  waiting  was  use 
less,  and  that  there  was  no  more  ale,  they  began,  one  by 
one,  to  go  home,  and  the  screams  and  clucking  of  hens 
and  the  shrill  Growings  of  the  cocks  grew  fainter  and 
fainter  as  they  were  carried  back  to  their  respective  barn 
yards.  By-and-by,  all  that  was  left  of  the  poultry  show 
were  a  few  scattered  feathers,  and  three  or  four  diminu 
tive  chicks,  which  had  escaped  from  thaldrom  and  hidden 
themselves  under  the  currant-bushes,  from  whence  they 
sent  up  feeble  and  unavailing  "  peeps." 

I  may  as  well  here  add  that  every  one  of  the  fowls  that 
Mrs.  Gray  bought  proved  to  be  of  the  masculine  gender, 
and  in  consequence  I  was  obliged  afterwards  to  visit  Wash 
ington  Market,  and  purchase  such  as  lay  eggs  and  are  not 
given  to  crowing.  I  would  rather  have  obtained  them 
nearer  home ;  but  the  country  people  round  about  all  re 
fused  to  sell  me  any.  One  of  those  which  I  bought,  too,  I 
lost  before  getting  home.  She  was  a  little  black-and-tan 
hen,  with  a  couple  of  bright  eyes,  a  knowing  side-glance, 
a  short  bill,  and  clean  legs,  and  the  market-man  swore 
awfully  that  she  was  a  splendid  layer  and  setter.  Three 
eggs  a  day,  he  said,  would  not  be  a  bit  too  many  to  expect 
from  her,  —  though  first  along,  being  in  a  strange  place. 
she  might  n't  quite  come  up  to  that  figure  ;  but,  if  I  only 
gave  her  time,  and  would  feed  her  well  on  corn,  and  keep 
her  pasture  ground  well  supplied  with  pebbles  and  lime, 
she  'd  do  it. 

It  was  no  more  than  I  expected  to  have  him  ask  higher 
for  that  hen  than  for  the  others  ;  but  still,  when  he  named 
ten  dollars  as  her  price,  I  hesitated  somewhat  as  to  pur 
chasing  her,  but  closed  with  him,  however,  after  he  demon- 


OUT  OF   TOWN.  19 

strated  to  me  that  she  would  not  only  pay  for  herself — 
even  if  she  laid  not  more  than  one  egg  a  day  —  with  eggs 
at  five  cents  apiece,  in  about  a  month,  but  yield  a  profit  of 
five  dollars  to  pay  for  her  feed.  I  don't  exactly  understand 
now  how  he  worked  it  out,  but,  at  all  events,  he  did  it,  and 
it  was  somehow  in  this  way :  —  "  Thirty  days  multiplied  by 
five  cents,"  he  said,  putting  his  head  knowingly  on  one 
side,  and  doing  a  little  legerdemain  on  his  fingers,  "  makes 
fifteen  dollars  ;  deduct  ten  dollars  as  the  price  of  the  hen, 
and  you  have  five  dollars  remaining  with  which  to  purchase 
her  feed." 

Even  now  it  sounds  correctly  to  me  ;  but  my  eight-year- 
old  boy  ciphered  it  out  somewhat  differently.  But,  as  I 
said  above,  I  lost  her  bringing  her  home,  and  came  exceed 
ingly  near  to  getting  into  a  serious  difficulty  on  her  account, 
to  say  nothing  of  almost  losing  my  own  life.  But,  as  the 
story  is  somewhat  long,  I  will  devote  the  next  chapter  to 
its  relation. 


20  OUT  OF   TOVSN. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

The  Shady  Side  of  the  Cars.  —  Muslin  vs.  Bombazine. —  Kind  Sir,  She 
said.  —  An  Apology.  —  My  Grandmother.  —  Banting  System.  —  Blaek- 
and-Tan.  —  On  a  Lark. — A  Chase.  —  In  the  Tunnel.  —  Irritable  Old 
Gentleman. 

LOST  my  black-and-tan  hen  bringing  her  home. 
And  this  was  the  way  it  came  to  pass.  I  had  her, 
with  the  other  fowls  I  bought,  secured  in  a  large 
wicker  basket,  and  had  brought  them  in  safety  from  the 
market  to  the  railroad,  and  placed  them  under  the  seat 
which  I  occupied  in  the  car.  It  being  a  warm  day,  I  hoped, 
because  of  the  greater  comfort  it  would  yield  me,  to  occupy 
it  alone,  and  had  consequently  disposed  beside  me  the 
various  packages  and  newspapers  which  a  dweller  out  of 
town  is  accustomed  to  carry  with  him  whenever  he  goes 
home.  I  had  buried  myself,  figuratively  speaking,  in  the 
last  number  of  the  "  Atlantic,"  and  was  so  absorbed  in  its 
perusal  that  I  failed  to  perceive  the  inquiring  glances  cast 
by  the  passengers,  as  they  passed  through  the  cars,  at  the 
unoccupied  seat.  I  knew  they  would  find  plenty  of  seats 
in  the  rear  cars,  or  on  the  sunny  side  of  almost  any  one  in 
the  train.  Consequently,  I  made  up  my  mind  not  to  make 
room  for  any  one  beside  me,  unless  asked  so  to  do.  I 
might  have  had  for  a  neighbor  a  nice  young  lady,  as  sweet 
as  lavender,  and  wearing  the  coolest  of  muslin  gowns,  if  I 
had  chosen  to  offer  one  a  seat;  but  I  neglected  all  the 
pleasant  opportunities  which  arose  for  so  doing,  and  was 
just  congratulating  myself —  for  the  cars  were  in  motion 
—  on  having  the  entire  seat  to  myself,  when  a  fat  old  lady, 
with  a  bandbox  and  basket,  a  parasol  and  a  palm-leaf  fan, 
wearing  the  warmest  of  black  bombazine  dresses,  and  look- 


OUT  OF  TOWN.  21 

ing  most  distressingly  red-hot  and  suffocated,  made  her 
appearance  down  the  aisle,  coming  toward  me.  I  lifted 
my  eyes  from  the  page  before  me,  where  I  had  been  read 
ing  about  the  honey-makers  till  the  murmur  of  bees  filled 
my  mind,  the  perfume  of  clover-tops  my  nostrils,  and  the 
flavor  of  honey  my  tongue,  and  looked  about  me.  Every 
seat  was  filled,  and  I  knew  there  was  no  help  for  me ;  my 
time  had  come.  So,  making  a  virtue  of  necessity,  I  moved, 
as  the  old  lady  got  near,  and  offered  her  part  of  the  seat. 
She  took  it  with  many  thanks,  regretting  she  was  so  large 
and  fleshy,  as  she  knew  she  should  seriously  incommode 
me. 

"  But  Providence,  kind  sir,"  she  said,  "  does  not  permit 
us  to  choose  our  mortal  tabernacles  of  flesh,  else  I  would 
have  been  a  much  smaller  woman  than  I  am,  and  you 
would  have  been  spared  the  discomfort  which  is  now  likely 
to  be  yours." 

I  begged  the  old  lady  to  make  no  apologies  for  her  size, 
although  the  seat,  I  said,  really  might  have  been  a  trifle 
wider,  thereby  rendering  it  more  comfortable  for  each  of 
us,  yet  that  she  could  be  thankful  I  was  not  a  large  man. 
She  said  she  was,  and  she  had  no  doubt,  either,  but  that  I 
was  myself. 

I  replied  I  was,  on  this  occasion,  but  that,  as  a  general 
rule,  it  was  not  applicable.  I  would  prefer  to  be  a  little 
stouter  and  heavier  than  I  am  ;  still,  as  she  justly  remarked, 
"  one  cannot  control  these  matters." 

"  For  my  part,"  I  continued,  "  I  like  fleshy  persons  ; 
they  are  almost  invariably  good-natured,  kind-hearted,  and 
jovial.  I  had  a  grandmother  once  —  rest  her  soul  in 
peace  !  she  is  dead  and  gone  these  many-a-year  —  who 
was  much  stouter  even  than  you ;  and,  though  she  was 
prone  to  regret  her  size,  I  would  n't  have  had  a  single 
ounce  of  her  flesh  removed  for  anything.  There  was  n't 
too  much  of  that  old  lady  for  me  to  love,  I  assure  you. 
Besides,  I  always  had  an  idea  that  it  was  because  my 


22  OUT  OF  TOWN. 

grandmother  was  so  large  that  she  used  to  cut  me  such 
great  slices  of  pound-cake  whenever  I  visited  her.  If  she 
had  been  a  thin,  bean-poleish  kind  of  a  woman,  the  pieces 
of  cake,  I  imagine,  would  have  been  of  the  same  character." 

The  old  lady  at  my  side  looked  benignly  upon  me,  and 
said  that  she  believed  I  was  right.  She  had  an  idea  though, 
she  said,  of  trying  that  new  plan  of  reducing  one's  flesh, 
of  which  she  'd  heard  so  much  talk,  —  the  what-do-you- 
call-it  system. 

"  Oh,  the  Banting,"  I  said. 

"  Yes,"  she  replied,  "  that  is  it ;  though  I  should  n't  like 
to  be  obliged  to  give  up  bread.  I  don't  believe,  though, 
after  all,  that  I  shall  adopt  that  —  what-is-it  system  ?  " 

"  The  Banting,"  I  answered. 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  '11  remember  it  now,"  she  replied,  —  "  Ban 
ting.  I  've  only  to  think  of  bantams,  and  that  will  remind 
me  of  it.  Now,  do  you  know,"  she  continued,  "  that  I  've 
imagined,  ever  since  I've  been  here,  that  I  heard  hens 
making  a  noise  ?  " 

"  I  think  it  very  probable,"  I  replied  ;  "  for,  the  fact  is, 
I  have  a  half-dozen  of  fowls  in  the  basket  under  this  seat. 
I  've  a  couple  of  bantams  there,  and  a  black-and-tan  hen 
which  is  just  the  prettiest  little  fowl  you  ever  saw." 

"  Now,  do  tell,"  she  said  ;  —  "  but  what  kind  of  a  hen 
did  you  call  it,  —  a  black  and  what  ?  " 

"  Black-and-tan,"  I  answered. 

"  Well,  now,  really,"  she  said,  "  I  know  a  good  deal  about 
fowls,  but  I  never  heard  before  of  one  of  that  kind  ;  and 
if  you  could  let  me  see  that  hen  I  would  regard  it  as  a 
great  favor." 

Thereupon  I  managed,  with  considerable  trouble,  to  get 
the  cover  of  the  basket  opened,  and  take  out  the  afore 
mentioned  black-and-tan.  We  were  just  approaching  the 
Harlem  Tunnel,  and,  before  the  old  lady  had  an  opportu 
nity  to  examine  her  henship,  we  had  passed  into  the  dark 
ness.  Suddenly  the  hen,  which  had  been  lying  perfectly 


OUT  OF  TOWN.  23 

quiet,  struggled  from  my  grasp,  and  before  I  could  recover 
it,  was  flying  through  the  car,  striking  with  her  wings  the 
bonnets  of  the  ladies,  and  knocking  off  the  hats  of  the 
men.  The  commotion  was  fearful,  —  the  women  shrieked, 
the  men  swore,  and  the  affrighted  hen  kept  blindly  flying 
about.  None,  however,  knew  what  it  was,  but  the  general 
impression  seemed  to  be  that  it  was  an  invention  of  the 
Rebels  —  a  kind  of  flying  infernal  machine  —  for  the  de 
struction  of  the  inmates  of  the  car. 

When  we  reached  daylight  again  the  mystery  was  ex 
plained,  and,  with  shouts  of  laughter  from  some  and  invec 
tives  from  others,  the  owner  of  the  unfortunate  hen  was 
called  for,  and,  after  many  urgent  requests,  I  at  last  rose, 
and  sought  to  apologize  for  the  annoyance  I  had  uninten 
tionally  caused.  The  passengers  generally  accepted  the 
apology,  but  one  or  two  individuals  said  I  ought  to  be 
prosecuted  and  made  to  pay  roundly  for  the  fright  my  hen 
had  occasioned.  All  this  while  the  black-and-tan  was  run 
ning  about  under  the  seats,  poked  at  with  canes  and  um 
brellas,  and  finally  took  refuge,  just  as  I  joined  in  the 
pursuit,  under  the  hoops  of  a  sour-looking,  tall,  and  bony 
maiden  lady  of  an  uncertain  age,  who  sat  in  the  adjoining 
seat  to  me,  and  who  I  noticed  had  turned  a  scornful  look 
at  me  when  I  eulogized  fat  people.  For  a  moment  she 
screeched  hysterically,  and  then  fainted  away ;  at  the  same 
time  the  hen  gained  the  door  of  the  car,  which  the  con 
ductor  opened  on  his  way  to  collect  the  tickets,  and  before 
I  could  grasp  her  had  flown,  screaming,  off  of  the  platform, 
and  alighted  in  the  charming  village  of  Yorkville,  where 
she  now,  doubtless,  is  experiencing  the  hospitality  of  that 
delightful  suburban  retreat. 

In  my  efforts  to  catch  her  I  came  near  to  falling  head 
long  from  the  cars,  and,  if  the  brakeman  had  not  caught 
me,  I  should  have  followed  after  the  hen.  When  I  reen- 
tered  the  car  I  was  confronted  by  a  lively  old  gentleman 
with  a  rubicund  nose,  and  a  gold-headed  cane  which  he 


24  OUT  OF  TOWN. 

flourished  energetically,  who  desired  to  know  what  the 
deuce  I  meant  by  insulting  his  sister. 

I  assured  him  that  I  had  no  intention  of  doing  any  such 
thing,  and  was  exceedingly  sorry  that  my  little  black-and- 
tan  —  mine,  alas  !  no  longer  —  had  created  such  a  serious 
disturbance. 

The  old  gentleman,  however,  refused  to  listen  to  my 
explanations,  until  the  old  lady  who  had  occupied  the  seat 
with  me  came  to  the  rescue,  and  assured  the  would-be  bel 
ligerent  that  it  was  entirely  her  fault  that  the  fearful  scene 
through  which  we  had  just  passed  had  occurred.  There 
was  something  about  that  old  lady's  voice  of  a  soothing 
nature,  or,  it  may  be,  something  magical  in  her  touch, 
when  she  laid  her  hand  softly  upon  the  arm  of  the  excited 
old  gentleman,  that  acted  like  an  opiate  upon  his  anger. 

He  yielded  gracefully  to  her  persuasions,  and  assured 
her  that  it  gave  him  great  pleasure  to  listen  to  her  expla 
nations,  and  that,  moreover,  he  was  convinced  that  his  sister 
was  a  fool,  and  it  was  confounded  nonsense  for  her  to  act 
as  she  did. 

Meanwhile  my  old  lady  had,  by  the  aid  of  salts,  cam 
phor,  and  other  medicinal  compounds,  of  which  she  ap 
peared  to  have  a  large  supply  in  her  satchel,  restored  the 
thin  lady  to  consciousness. 

The  excitement  after  a  while  subsided,  and  when  I 
reached  my  stopping-place,  I  gave  up  my  seat  to  the  afore 
said  old  gentleman,  who  appeared  delighted  to  take  posses 
sion  of  it,  and  shook  hands  with  me  with  great  cordiality 
at  parting. 

Whether  I  shall  ever  duplicate  that  black-and-tan  re 
mains  to  be  seen  ;  but  at  present,  my  wife,  who  is  of  a 
saving  turn  of  mind,  objects  seriously  to  my  paying  so  high 
for  any  kind  of  a  hen.  The  common  hens,  which  lay  one 
egg  a  day,  she  says,  are  good  enough  for  our  poultry-yard, 
and  she  trusts  I  will  not  spend  any  more  money  in  buying 
new-fangled  cocks  and  hens. 


OUT   OF  TOWN.  25 


CHAPTER  V. 

A  Brother  of  the  Angle.  —  Country  Scenery. —  "American  Angler's  Book." 
Gentle  Genio.  —  My  Outfit.  —  A  Fishing  Party.  —  The  Procession. — 
Prospect  of  Rain.  —  The  Classic  Bronx.  —  Many  Flies.  —  Nary  Trout. 
Mishaps.  —  It  rains.  —  Going  Home. 

HAVE  become  a  brother  of  the  angle.  A  neigh 
bor  of  mine,  who  lives  on  the  heights,  had  the 
honor  of  initiating  me  into  the  mysteries  of  the 
craft.  He  said  no  one  ought  to  dwell  in  the  country  unless 
he  were  in  the  habit  of  going  a-fishing.  He  quoted  at 
length  from  old  Izaak  Walton  to  prove  that  one  of  the 
chief  enjoyments  of  an  out-of-town  life  consists  in  being 
able  to  go  a-fishing.  To  live,  too,  near  the  sea,  or  a  lake, 
or  a  running  brook,  was  essential,  he  thought,  to  a  proper 
appreciation  of  a  country  life.  Thereby,  one  enjoyed  bet 
ter  the  special  delights  which  the  country  affords,  —  the 
forest,  with  its  leafy  trees  and  shadowy  nooks  ;  the  wide- 
spreading  meadows,  with  their  sunshine  and  buttercups  ; 
the  breezy  hill-tops ;  the  quiet  vales  ;  the  winding  lanes, 
with  raspberries  and  blackberries  growing  on  either  side ; 
and,  in  short,  all  the  charming  sights  and  sounds  that  go  to 
make  up  a  country  life. 

After  this  conversation  with  my  friend,  I  became  inocu 
lated  with  the  desire  to  be  an  angler.  So  I  took  down, 
from  its  shelf  in  my  library,  the  "  American  Angler's 
Book,"  and,  in  its  perusal,  lost  all  thought  of  the  little  task 
of  thinning  out  my  beets,  which  I  had  remained  at  home 
to  accomplish. 

Of  course  one  cannot  become  an  angler  unless  he  pos 
sesses  all  the  necessary  tackle  for  the  sport.  Rods,  land 
ing-net,  reels,  lines,  flies,  baskets,  high-topped  boots,  a 
slouched  hat,  and  a  pocket-flask  are  absolutely  requisite  in 


26  OUT  OF   TOWN. 

getting  yourself  up  for  a  fisherman.  When,  after  having 
spent  much  money  and  time,  going  from  shop  to  shop  with 
the  "  Gentle  Genio,"  of  the  "  Spirit,"  in  obtaining  these 
things,  an  express-wagon  brought  them  home,  my  wife  de 
sired  to  know  if  I  were  going  to  open  a  fishing-shop.  I 
told  her  no,  but  that  I  was  going  to  shop  for  fish. 

She  trusted,  she  said,  that  I  would  have  a  good  time  of 
it  when  I  went,  but  that  she  had  not  much  hope  of  my 
success,  for  she  had  always  understood  that  a  true  angler, 
like  a  true  poet,  must  be  born,  not  made. 

Whereupon  I  told  her  that  she  knew  nothing  about  it, 
and  that,  if  she  wished  to  have  proven  the  falsity  of  her 
remark,  she  might  accompany  me  on  the  morrow,  and  be 
a  witness  to  my  success. 

This  proposition  seemed  to  please  her  very  much  ;  and, 
as  I  advised  her  to  take  the  children  and  the  nurse  with 
her,  and  make  a  kind  of  picnic  of  it,  —  a  gala  day,  as  it 
were,  to  celebrate  my  inauguration  as  a  fisherman,  —  she 
took  kindly  to  the  arrangement,  and  made  a  chicken-pie 
for  the  occasion,  and  added  sundry  sandwiches  to  the  colla 
tion,  and  I  filled  my  flask  ;  and  the  next  morning,  though 
the  heavens  betokened  rain,  and  my  wife  said  she  was 
afraid  there  would  be  a  shower  before  night,  AVC  started. 

"  A  cloudy  sky,  my  dear,"  I  said,  "  like  that  which  is 
over  us  at  this  moment,  is  much  more  desirable  than  a 
clear  one  would  be.  Besides,  you  must  allow  that  a  warm 
sunny  day  would  not  be  nearly  so  pleasant.  The  children 
would  be  hot  and  cross,  the  flies  and  mosquitoes  would  bite 
them,  and  their  little  faces  would  be  sadly  burnt." 

"  But,  if  it  should  rain,  my  dear  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Oh,  never  fear  that,"  I  answered  ;  "  I  never  knew  it  to 
rain  when  I  went  a-fishinsf,  and  I  don't  think  it  will  begin 

O'  o 

to-day.  Still,  if  it  should  sprinkle  a  little,  the  children 
can  undress  themselves  and  put  their  clothes  under  a  stone 
while  the  shower  lasts,  and  then,  when  it  passes  off,  they 
can  have  them  dry  to  put  on  again." 


OUT  OF  TOWN.  27 

"  That  may  be  very  nice  for  the  little  ones,  my  dear," 
my  wife  replied,  "  but  what  is  to  become  of  me  in  case  of 
a  shower  ?  You  can't  expect  me  to  follow  their  example." 

"  Well,  no,  perhaps  not,"  I  answered ;  "  but  then  you 
have  an  umbrella,  and  can  find  protection,  besides,  under 
the  trees ;  so  that  I  don't  think  you  need  be  greatly  alarmed 
at  the  prospect  of  rain." 

It  was  a  pleasant  thing  to  see  our  procession  moving 
along  the  road,  winding  through  the  woods,  to  the  Bronx. 
The  neighbors  came  out  of  their  houses  to  see  us  go  by. 
Several  of  them  prophesied  that  we  would  have  a  rainy 
day ;  but  the  larger  portion  of  them  wisely  held  their 
peace.  First,  as  a  pioneer,  went  the  dog  Jack,  kept  in 
place  by  my  constantly  throwing  stones  ahead  for  him  to 
search  for.  Then  came  my  eldest  boy  with  a  long  fishing- 
pole  and  an  umbrella.  Behind  him  walked  his  two  sisters, 
bearing  between  them  a  basket  containing  refreshments, 
and  who,  when  they  occasionally  stopped  to  rest,  abstracted 
therefrom  the  tempting  peaches  which  lay  within  easy  reach 
of  their  fingers.  Then  came  the  baby,  reclining  at  ease  in 
a  four-wheeled  carriage,  propelled  by  the  inevitable  nurse, 
who  always  appears  in  our  house  simultaneously  with  the 
new  infant.  Her  name  is  Kitty,  and,  though  she  is  a  good 
girl,  and  has  had  charge  of  several  of  my  olive-plants,  I 
don't  think  she  will  ever  be  called  upon  to  take  care  of 
any  more.  Finally,  bringing  up  the  rear,  with  Mrs.  Gray 
beside  me,  I  walked,  in  a  grave,  sedate  manner,  as  was  be 
coming  in  the  father  of  such  a  family  and  the  husband  of 
so  dignified  a  woman  as  Mrs.  G.  She  was  not  embarrassed 
with  any  luggage,  if  I  except  a  gray  shawl  which  she  car 
ried  on  her  arm,  and  a  palm-leaf  fan  which  she  held  in  her 
hand.  As  for  myself,  I  was  loaded  down  with  many  traps. 
My  fishing-boots,  the  tops  of  which  reached  nearly  to  my 
shoulders,  were  extremely  heavy,  and  when  I  put  one  foot 
down,  it  was  exceedingly  difficult  to  lift  it  off  the  ground 
again  ;  each  of  those  boots  must  weigh  twenty  pounds  at 


28  OUT  OF  TOWN. 

least.  Then  I  had  my  fish-basket,  containing  much  tackle, 
and  my  private  flask,  slung  across  one  shoulder,  and  a 
couple  of  poles  over  the  other.  Before  we  reached  the 
banks  of  the  stream  we  had  added  to  our  procession  the 
popular  simpleton  of  the  village,  together  with  his  dog  and 
two  goats  he  was  driving.  I  will  say  this  of  that  poor  fool, 
that  he  might  have  shown  less  wisdom  than  he  did  by  join 
ing  our  party.  He  left  us,  however,  because  he  said  it 
was  going  to  rain,  —  and  he  knew  enough  to  go  into  the 
house  when  it  rained,  never  mind  that  some  people  said  he 
did  n't,  —  when  we  reached  the  classic  Bronx,  with  its  diver 
sity  of  banks,  here  low  and  creeping  up  gently  from  the 
edge  of  the  water,  with  an  emerald  sward ;  there  higher, 
and  fringed  with  the  hazel,  the  dogwood,  and  climbing 
vines ;  and  anon  rising  abrupt  and  rocky  from  twenty  to 
thirty  feet  above  the  surface  of  the  water,  with  dark  pines 
and  cedars  stretching  their  huge  branches  far  out  toward 
the  opposing  shores.  In  some  places  the  tide  flows  lazily 
and  smoothly  along,  and  the  water-spider  skims  fearlessly 
across  its  glassy  breast ;  at  others,  it  goes  tumbling  and 
foaming  over  half-hidden  rocks,  and  eddying  around  mossy 
trunks,  and  swirling  swiftly  into  deep  and  silent  pools.  In 
these  cloister-like  spots,  if  anywhere  amidst  the  stream,  it 
is  to  be  presumed  that  wily  trout  lurk ;  and  into  one  of 
these,  having  first  encamped  my  family  on  flat  rocks  and 
soft,  green  turf,  I  cast  my  maiden  fly.  It  was  a  very  fine- 
looking  fellow,  made  up  of  gorgeously  colored  silks  and 
feathers,  and  seemed  to  me  to  be  of  so  attractive  a  charac 
ter  that  no  gay  young  trout  would  be  able  to  resist  making 
its  acquaintance.  But  either  the  trout  in  that  stream  are 
old,  staid  fellows,  who  are  not  to  be  seduced  by  glitter  and 
show,  or  else  there  are  none  there  ;  for  although  I  tried 
many  flies  of  many  kinds,  and  went  from  pool  to  pool, 
never  a  trout  blessed  my  vision  through  the  entire  day, 
and  only  one  fish  attempted  to  take  my  fly  ;  and  he,  from 
the  voracity  which  he  evinced,  and  the  scientific  way  in 


OUT  OF  TOWN.  29 

which  he  snapped  off  the  fly  from  the  line,  I  am  inclined 
to  think  was  a  pickerel. 

Of  course  I  met  with  many  misadventures  before  the 
day  was  ended.  I  broke  one  rod ;  I  entangled  my  line 
many  times  in  the  roots  of  trees  and  sunken  rocks ;  I 
landed  my  wife's  bonnet,  which  I  took  off  of  her  head  with 
a  whirl  of  the  rod,  once,  at  least,  in  the  centre  of  the 
stream ;  I  caught  my  eldest  boy  just  under  the  right  ear 
with  a  hook  that  would  fly  off  in  a  tangent,  —  an  act  which 
cost  me  a  good  draught  from  my  private  flask,  poured  on  a 
handkerchief  and  applied  to  the  wound  to  stop  the  bleed 
ing  ;  I  slipped  off  of  slimy  rocks  numerous  times,  and 
once,  unfortunately,  when  I  had  the  baby  in  my  arms.  I 
managed,  however,  to  save  the  youthful  scion  of  my  house 
from  a  ducking,  and  only  got  a  rebuke  of  a  trying  nature 
from  my  wife  for  my  carelessness. 

"  Carelessness  be  hanged  !  "  I  replied,  as  I  placed  the 
baby  unharmed  in  her  arms ;  "  it  was  n't  that,  but  the  slime 
on  the  rocks.  You  just  try  to  walk  across  that  point  your 
self,  my  dear,  and  if  you  don't  measure  your  length  in  the 
water,  I  '11  agree  to  being  called  careless." 

Mrs.  Gray  indignantly  declined  to  comply  with  my  re 
quest,  and  gave  me  to  understand  that  it  would  be  well  for 
me  to  go  and  dry  myself  before  I  approached  her  again. 

"  I  am  dry,"  I  replied ;  and  I  proved  it  by  taking  a  long 
draught  from  my  private  flask. 

To  crown  all,  it  began  at  noon  to  rain,  commencing  with 
a  heavy  shower,  which  wet  us  all  thoroughly,  including  the 
little  ones,  who,  owing  to  the  number  of  tape-strings  which 
got  into  hard  knots,  and  would  not  be  untied,  failed  to  get 
off  their  garments  in  time  to  secure  them  from  being  wet 
through.  We  had  just  got  the  chicken-pie  and  sandwiches 
distributed  in  handsome  style  upon  the  table-rock,  and 
were  preparing  to  "  fill  our  crops,"  as  the  children  admon 
ish  the  chickens  to  do,  when  the  storm  broke  upon  us.  If 
the  pie  had  been  composed  of  young  ducks,  instead  of 


30  OUT  OF  TOWN. 

chickens,  it  might  have  enjoyed  it ;  for  it  was  carried  away 
in  the  freshet,  and,  the  last  I  saw  of  it,  was  going  with  a 
rotary  motion  down  the  stream.  The  sandwiches,  fortu 
nately,  were  not  carried  away  ;  and  though  they  might  be 
said  to  have  been  mustered  out  of  the  regular  service,  for 
the  mustard  was  all  washed  out  from  between  them,  and 
they  were  soaked  with  rain  and  floated  from  the  table,  yet, 
after  the  storm  had  expended  its  fury,  they  were  all  re 
covered  and  made  to  do  excellent  service  in  allaying  the 
hunger  of  the  children. 

After  a  while,  when  the  storm  had  somewhat  abated, 
and  the  rain  came  down  only  in  a  weak,  unpleasant  drizzle, 
we  went  stragglingly  home.  Dry  clothes,  hot  tea,  and  a 
game  of  blind-man's-buff,  restored  the  healthy  tone  of  the 
family,  and,  at  peace  with  all  the  world,  we  went  to  rest. 


OUT  OF    TOWN.  31 


CHAPTER  VI. 

Fourth  of  July.  —  What  the  Parson  said  in  his  Sermon. — Its  Sad  Effect  on 
the  Minds  of  the  Children. — I  correct  the  Deplorable  Impression.  — 
Fireworks. — A  Fishing- Scheme.  —  A  Visit  to  my  Mother-in-law  pro 
posed. —  It  is  unexpectedly  prevented. — My  Mother-in-law's  Arrival 
Patriotic  Noises.  —  Cold  Punch.  — In  the  Evening. 

little  ones  are  much  excited  over  the  prospect 
of  soon  having  a  Fourth  of  July  to  celebrate. 
They  were  a  little  in  doubt,  until  I  reassured 
them,  whether  we  would  have  a  Fourth  of  July  this  year. 
Since  peace  had  been  declared,  and  they  had  heard  the 
Parson,  in  one  of  his  sermons,  say,  as  they  related  it  to 
me,  that  all  the  swords  were  to  be  turned  into  pruning- 
hooks,  the  muskets  into  ploughshares,  and  the  cannon 
into  anchors,  they  could  n't  see  how  the  soldiers  were  to 
be  armed,  so  as  to  "  turn  out "  on  that  day,  nor  how  there 
could  be  any  firing  of  guns.  And  you  can't  have  a  Fourth 
of  July,  you  know,  they  said,  unless  you  have  pistols  and 
guns,  and  such  things,  to  load  and  fire  off,  and  make  a 
noise.  "  Well,  I  don't  know  about  that,"  I  said,  "  for  after 
all  the  main  thing  on  this  day  is  to  make  a  show,  and  also 
some  noise.  And  with  plenty  of  feathers,  and  flags,  and 
shoulder-straps,  and  music,  these  matters  can  be  accom 
plished.  Besides,"  I  added,  "  if  there  be  no  guns  to  con 
sume  powder,  there  will  of  course  be  more  left  with  which 
to  make  fireworks.  And  if  I  remember  rightly  the  expe 
riences  of  past  Fourths  of  July,  considerable  noise  can  be 
produced  with  crackers,  double-headers,  and  torpedoes." 

The  idea  of  there  being  more  fireworks  in  existence  on 
the  coming  Fourth,  fully  reconciled  my  little  ones  to  the 
loss  of  the  swords  and  muskets ;  and,  taking  advantage  of 


32  OUT  OF  TOWN. 

this  acknowledgment  on  my  part,  they  made  me  promise 
to  lay  in  a  larger  supply  than  usual  of  fireworks. 

But  I  told  them  we  might  all  possibly  go  to  their  grand 
mother's  to  spend  the  day,  and  in  that  case  they  would 
have  to  be  contented  with  a  less  number  of  fireworks,  and 
a  larger  supply  of  cakes  and  peaches.  The  fact  is  that 
several  of  my  artist  friends  had  asked  me  to  join  them  on 
a  fishing  excursion,  to  take  place  on  that  day,  and  I  was 
desirous  of  going. 

My  wife,  as  I  knew  very  well,  however,  would  not  con 
sent  to  my  being  absent  from  home  on  this  day,  unless 
she  could  accompany  me.  Under  usual  circumstances 
this  would  have  been  impracticable,  but  in  the  present 
instance  I  thought  it  might  be  accomplished.  To  my 
satisfaction  I  found  that  the  lake  to  which  the  party  pro 
posed  going,  was  in  the  neighborhood  where  my  wife's 
mother  resided.  I  knew  it  would  not  do  to  let  my  wife 
know  my  plans,  for  she  would  then  never  consent  to  mak 
ing  her  mother,  as  I  hoped  she  would,  a  visit.  So,  a  few 
mornings  previous  to  the  Fourth,  just  as  I  was  on  the 
point  of  departing  for  town,  I  suggested  to  my  wife  the 
propriety  of  taking  with  us  the  children  and  going  to 
Coney  Island  on  the  coming  national  anniversary.  Of 
course  my  crinoline  half  laughed  at  the  idea. 

"  Then,  my  dear,"  I  said,  "  perhaps  we  had  better  go  to 
the  city." 

"  Yes,"  she  replied,  "  and  have  the  children  burnt  to 
death  with  fire-crackers,  and  pistols,  and  all  those  kind  of 
things.  No,  no,"  she  continued  ;  "  I  've  seen  all  the  Fourths 
of  July  in  town  that  I  wish  to  see.  Did  n't  that  blessed 
little  boy  singe  off  his  eyebrows  and  eyelashes  with  gun- 
power  last  year,  and  come  near  in  the  evening  to  being 
carried  off  bodily  into  the  air  by  a  bundle  of  rockets, 
which  he  carelessly  managed  to  light,  while  untying  them  ? 
I  tell  you  I  am  going  to  stay  out  here  where  there  are  no 
fireworks  to  be  let  off." 


OUT   OF   TOWN.  33 

"  Perhaps  you  don't  know,"  I  said,  "  that  several  of  my 
artist  friends  have  declared  to  me  their  intention  of  comincr 

O 

out  here  to  spend  the  day,  and  are  going  to  bring  a  large 
amount  of  fireworks  with  them  ?  " 

"  Then,"  said  my  wife,  quite  excited,  "  you  can  have  the 
benefit  of  their  society,  for  I  will  take  the  children  and  go 
and  visit  my  mother.  How  fortunate  that  I  should  have 
thought  of  it,  and  my  dear  mother,  how  glad  she  will  be 
to  see  us  !  " 

"  But,  my  love,"  I  interposed,  "  I  do  not  think  we  had 
better  go  there." 

"  But  I  do,"  she  answered. 

And  so  the  affair  was  settled. 

I  congratulated  myself  on  the  way  to  town,  with  the  re 
sult  of  my  diplomacy.  During  the  day  I  told  my  friends 
that  I  would  join  them  at  the  lake,  for  I  doubted  not  I 
should  be  able  to  slip  away  from  my  mother-in-law's  for 
a  day's  fishing. 

But  how  vain  are  all  human  calculations.  Man,  indeed, 
proposes,  but  God  disposes.  At  the  very  hour  when  my 
wife,  my  children,  and  myself,  were  arraying  ourselves  in 
travelling  garments  ;  when  the  carriage  that  was  to  bear 
us  to  the  cars  was  approaching  the  door ;  and  when  my 
wife  was  giving  the  final  directions  to  Kitty  to  keep  the 
street-door  locked,  and  on  no  account  to  admit  into  the 
house  her  cousins  Mike,  nor  Pat,  nor  Tim,  nor  the  rest 
of  them,  during  our  absence,  up  drove  another  carriage 
than  the  one  we  expected,  and  from  it  alighted  —  oh ! 
unpropitious  fate  !  —  my  wife's  mother.  She  had  come 
to  pass  the  Fourth  with  us,  —  to  witness  the  fireworks, 
and  see  the  sights  generally.  Of  course  our  trip  was  post 
poned.  I  suggested  once  or  twice  the  propriety  of  my 
going  to  see  that  my  mother-in-law's  house  was  not  set 
on  fire  by  stray  rockets,  but  my  wife  said  it  would  be  treat 
ing  her  mother  disrespectfully  should  I  leave  home ;  so 
that  I  was  fain  to  close  my  lips  on  the  subject,  and  en- 
3 


34  OUT  OF  TOWN. 

deavor  to  have  the  old  lady  enjoy  her  visit  as  much  as 
possible. 

At  last  the  Fourth  came.  My  eldest  boy,  a  lad  of  ten 
years,  ushered  it  in  by  firing  off  a  small  cannon  in  his  bed 
room,  which  apartment  adjoins  the  chamber  occupied  by 
his  grandmother,  —  my  esteemed  wife's  esteemed  mother. 
The  old  lady  was  somewhat  astonished  by  this,  which  was 
not  at  all  decreased  when  Miss  Em.  let  off  a  package  of 
fire-crackers  in  the  hall  near  her  chamber  door.  At  length, 
when  she  made  her  appearance  in  the  breakfast-room,  she 
was  saluted  with  a  shower  of  torpedoes,  scattered  by  the 
hands  of  my  seven-years'-old  girl,  and  in  shaking  hands 
with  the  baby,  managed  to  explode  a  pulling  cracker  which 
the  latter  had  clutched  in  his  chubby  fist. 

These  little  patriotic  noises  gave  my  esteemed  mother- 
in-law  a  headache,  so  that  instead  of  asking  me  to  go  to 
town  with  her,  as  she  had  hinted  to  my  wife,  the  evening 

/  */  O 

before,  that  she  should,  to  view  the  military  and  the  rev 
ellers,  she  was  satisfied  to  remain  at  home,  —  much  to  my 
secret  satisfaction,  —  where  she  found  consolation  in  dip 
ping  into  a  bowl  containing  cold  claret  punch,  which  I 
had  prepared  for  my  own  especial  comfort.  I  do  not  know 
but  that  the  day  passed  quite  as  pleasantly  with  me  as  if 
I  had  been  up  to  my  knees  in  water  among  lily-pads  and 
rushes  and  slimy  grasses,  catching  fish.  My  friends,  of 
course,  missed  me  more  than  I  did  them.  I  watched  the 
children  with  their  cannon  and  crackers,  and  thought  of 
the  days  when  I  was  as  partial  to  these  things  as  any  of 
them.  Whether  my  mother-in-law  imbibed  courage  with 
the  punch,  or  had  become  used  to  the  din  around  her, 
towards  evening  she  proposed  going  up  to  my  savage  lit 
erary  friend's  to  see  the  fireworks,  for  I  had  told  her  that 
he  had  laid  in  a  large  supply.  I  said  it  was  dangerous  to 
go  there.  She  was  not  afraid,  she  replied ;  and  besides, 
was  she  not  born  in  the  days  of  '76  ?  and  was  she  not  the 
daughter  of  a  soldier  who  had  fought  in  many  of  the  bat- 


OUT  OF  TOWN.  35 

ties  of  the  Revolution,  and  as  such  should  she  not  cele 
brate  the  day  by  beholding  the  fireworks  ? 

"  Certainly,"  I  replied  ;  and  so  forming  a  somewhat  im 
posing  procession,  with  the  American  flag  waving,  and 
bearing  on  my  shoulder  my  assortment  of  rockets  which 
I  proposed  to  unite  with  those  of  my  friend's,  we  marched 
thither. 

Our  combined  efforts  enabled  us  to  get  up  an  exhibition 
worthy  of  the  occasion.  It  was,  without  doubt,  the  finest 
display  of  fireworks  anywhere  to  be  witnessed  in  the  vil 
lage.  It  comprised  a  large  number  of  rockets,  that  left  a 
train  of  sparks  to  mark  their  course,  and  which  burst  in 
mid-heaven,  pouring  a  flood  of  diamonds,  rubies,  emeralds, 
and  amethysts  down  upon  the  earth.  Miniature  volcanoes 
sent  forth  a  shower  of  golden  stars,  and,  at  last,  with  a 
loud  report,  shot  up  into  the  sky  hundreds  of  fiery  ser 
pents.  Bengola  lights  emitted  lurid  flames,  lighting  up 
the  entire  neighborhood,  and  disclosing  boys  in  the  trees 
and  lovers  upon  the  sidewalks.  Immense  wheels,  dazzling 
in  their  brilliancy  and  changing  in  their  colors,  like  the 
kaleidoscope,  now  tinging  the  faces  of  the  assembly  with 
a  sickly,  yellow  hue,  anon  casting  a  bluish  glare,  and  finally 
spreading  a  roseate  light  over  all,  glared  and  whizzed  like 
demons  on  a  lark.  Thus  my  neighbor  and  myself  cele 
brated  the  evening  of  the  Fourth.  The  children  were 
greatly  delighted,  my  wife  was  pleased,  and  my  esteemed 
mother-in-law  declared  it  was  worth  coming  all  the  way 
from  her  home  to  see,  and  she  hoped  that  none  of  us 
would  ever  go  where  fireworks  are  more  brilliant  and 
lasting  than  were  these. 

My  esteemed  wife's  mother  went  home  the  next  day. 


36  OUT  OF  TOWN. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

An  Arrival  at  Woodbine.  — A  Literary  Young  Lady;  her  Manuscript;  her 
Opinion  of  Mr.  Gray.  —  Pouting  Keel  Lips.  —  Twilight  and  Moonlight. — 
Almost  a  Flirtation.  —  That's  why. —  Saved.  — My  Neighbor's  Fowls. — 
Corn  vs.  Tomatoes.  —  Amputating  a  Wing.  —  Dog  Jack.  —  A  Red  Calf. 
A  Connection.  —  The  Result. 

|r?/>E  have  had  another  arrival  at  Woodbine  Cottage. 
No  sooner  did  my  mother-in-law  leave  us  than 
her  place  in  the  family  circle  was  filled  by  a 
young  lady  of  literary  proclivities.  She  came,  one  day, 
just  as  we  were  about  sitting  down  to  dinner,  and  brought 
with  her  a  roll  of  manuscript  and  a  good  appetite.  She 
wished  me  to  read  the  former,  while  she  assuaged  the 
latter.  I  protested,  but  she  insisted,  and  declared  that 
it  would  not  take  me  long  to  read  it.  I  was  really  sorry 
to  hear  her  say  that,  as  I  was  quite  charmed  with  her 
appearance,  and  had  hoped  that  our  interview  might  be 
protracted  into  the  small  hours  of  the  night.  However, 
I  told  her  that,  if  it  was  as  brief  as  she  represented,  I 
would  prefer  to  eat  my  dinner  first,  and  then  there  would 
be  ample  time  for  reading  it  afterward.  She  shook 
her  head,  but  when  my  wife  said  that  she  could  remain 
all  night  if  necessary,  she  relented,  and  her  countenance 
brightened  materially.  I  may  as  well  mention  here  that 
she  was  not  an  entire  stranger  either  to  me  or  to  my 
wife,  but  I  had  made  her  acquaintance,  a  few  years  ago, 
when  occupying  an  editorial  chair.  She  used  to  write 
some  pleasant  little  stories  then,  which  were  published 
in  the  columns  of  the  "  Home  Journal,"  and  won  for  her  a 
reputation  among  its  readers.  She  formed  rather  a  high 
opinion,  in  those  days,  of  my  critical  acumen,  and  used 


OUT  OF  TOWN.  37 

to  favor  me  with  her  manuscripts  for  my  opinion  as  to 
their  literary  merits.  I  tried  to  make  my  criticism  as 
favorable  as  possible,  though  I  may  not  always  have 
been  correct.  Indeed,  there  were  instances  in  which 
I  passed  judgment  upon  her  stories  without  having  read 
them ;  but,  at  such  times,  by  skilful  cross-questioning 
on  her  part,  she  generally  managed  to  fix  this  disgrace 
ful  fact  upon  me,  and  then,  with  much  seeming  coolness 
of  manner  and  pouting  of  red  lips,  which  I  would  have 
liked  to,  but  did  not,  kiss,  she  would  gather  up  her  manu 
scripts  in  silence,  and  go  proudly  away.  She  had  very 
pretty  ways,  withal,  and  would  glance  at  me,  sometimes, 
in  an  inquiring  fashion,  out  of  her  soft,  brown  eyes,  which 
would  have  put  my  heart,  if  it  had  been  a  bachelor's, 
into  a  terrible  flutter,  and  have  tempted  me  to  wish  that 
she  might  always  be  coming  to  the  office  with  manuscript 
for  me  to  read. 

She  used  to  tell  me  that  she  intended  to  accomplish 
something  very  fine  one  of  these  days  ;  and,  as  I  saw 
the  maiden  had  talent,  I  said  much  to  encourage  her, 
and  gave  her  any  quantity  of  good  advice,  which  she 
may  or  may  not  have  followed.  I  am  inclined,  however, 
to  think  that  she  did  follow  it.  The  manuscript  which 
she  brought  with  her  to  Woodbine  Cottage  turned  out 
to  be  a  good  deal  longer  than  I  had  any  idea  of,  and, 
instead  of  my  being  able  to  peruse  it  that  evening,  I  find 
myself,  though  a  week  has  passed,  still  engaged  upon  it. 
My  wife,  however,  fails  to  see  the  necessity  of  my  spend 
ing  so  much  time  over  it,  especially  since  she  herself 
was  able  to  read  it  through  in  one  afternoon. 

"  Ah !  yes,"  I  said,  "  but  you  did  not  read  it  critically, 
my  dear,  as  I  am  doing.  Every  sentence  has  to  be  duly 
weighed  and  talked  over,  and  that  takes  time,  you  know." 

ik  Yes,"  she  replied ;  "  I  have  observed  that  you  and 
Miss  Floy  spend  a  great  deal  of  time  over  it,  and  it  has 
sometimes  occurred  to  me  that  you  talk  much  irrelevant 


38  OUT  OF  TOWN. 

matter  not  connected  with  the  subject  of  her  manuscript. 
I  don't  see,  either,  what  walking  down  to  the  Bronx 
in  the  twilight,  and  sitting  on  the  veranda  in  the  moon 
light,  with  her,  has  to  do  with  it.  It  is  all  very  well 
for  young  unmarried  critics  to  do  thus ;  but  for  a  staid 
father  of  a  family,  like  yourself,  who  is  getting  bald, 
and  whose  beard  is  rather  more  than  tinged  with  gray, 
it  does  not  seem  to  me  to  be  exactly  the  proper  thing. 
It  is  not  what  I  call  legitimate  criticism,  but  looks  much 
more  like  a  flirtation." 

"  Good  heavens !  my  dear,"  I  exclaimed ;  "  I  really 
believe  you  are  correct.  Why,  the  very  thought  nearly 
frightens  me  to  death.  It  would  be  too  bad  if,  at  my 
age,  and  after  the  many  years  of  happiness  we  have 
passed  together,  I  should,  at  this  late  day,  take  to  flirt 
ing  with  a  literary  young  woman.  Good  gracious  !  it 
is  terrible  to  contemplate.  Xo  more  moonlight  and  Bronx 
for  me,  Miss  Floy,  if  you  please." 

"  Why  not,  I  should  like  to  know  ? "  asked  the  young 
lady  in  question,  who  entered  the  library  just  as  I  had 
uttered  these  words. 

"  Why  not  ?  "  I  exclaimed ;  "  because  —  because,"  I 
faltered,  "the  atmosphere  is  inclined  to  be  damp  at 
night,  and  I  'm  afraid  you  may  take  cold  and  be  ill,  and 
I  don't  wish  to  have  a  sick  literary  young  woman  on 
my  hands.  That 's  why  ! " 

"  Oh ! "  she  said,  in  a  tone,  I  thought,  which  implied 
a  great  deal  more  than  she  uttered. 

I  am  very  grateful  to  Mrs.  Gray  for  calling  my  atten 
tion  to  the  matter.  If  she  had  not,  I  might  have  gone 
on  and  on  ever  so  far  with  Miss  Floy,  till  I  might  have 
been  tempted  to  take  her  hand  and  press  it,  and  even 
have  kissed  her,  which  would  have  been  very  imprudent, 
not  to  say  naughty,  in  me  to  do.  Love-making  is  a  very 
pretty  pastime  if  you  're  unmarried,  and  it  fits  very  nicely 
into  moonlight  nights  and  twilight  ramblings.  But  it 


OUT  OF   TOWN.  39 

won't  do  for  a  married  man.  He  is  almost  certain  of 
being  caught  at  it,  and  besides,  even  if  the  wife  did  n't 
find  it  out,  why,  some  one  else  would,  and  would  reveal 
it  to  her,  and  then  there  would  be  a  pretty  time  in  the 
family.  I  don't  mean  to  say  that  I  have  been  making 
love  to  Miss  Floy,  or  she  to  me  ;  but  it  did  seem  to  be 
tending  toward  it.  To  prevent  anything,  therefore,  of 
that  nature  from  actually  taking  place,  I  shall  invite  a 
young  bachelor  friend  to  stay  at  my  house  while  Miss 
Floy  and  her  manuscript  remain  with  us. 

I  have  had  much  trouble,  lately,  with  my  neighbor's 
fowls.  They  are  continually  getting  into  my  garden  and 
eating  my  tomatoes  as  fast  as  they  ripen.  My  own  fowls 
are  shut  up  in  the  hennery,  greatly,  doubtless,  to  their 
wonder  and  disgust.  The  young  roosters,  I  observe,  are 
continually  fighting  each  other,  and  it  is  no  unusual  thing 
for  me,  when  I  return  home  in  the  afternoon,  to  find 
one  or  two  completely  used-up  chanticleers  laid  out  on 
the  floor  of  the  hennery.  I  shut  them  up  to  save  my 
tomatoes ;  but,  as  through  shutting  them  up  I  am  losing 
them,  and  at  the  same  time  losing  my  tomatoes  by  outside 
robbery,  I  don't  think  I  shall  make  much  by  it.  Even 
before  they  began  murdering  each  other,  my  wife  said 
she  thought  it  would  cost  more  to  feed  them  with  corn 
than  the  tomatoes  they  might  eat  would  come  to,  and  she 
thought  the  better  way  to  keep  them  out  of  the  garden 
would  be  to  clip  their  wings,  so  that  they  could  not  fly 
over  the  garden  fence.  I  tried  it  on  one,  but  he  bled 
so  after  I  had  finished,  and  seemed  to  suffer  so  much 
pain,  that  I  declared  I  would  n't  do  so  cruel  an  act  again 
for  all  the  tomatoes  in  the  world.  He  died  that  day, — 
bled  to  death,  I  think,  —  and  his  amputated  wings  kept 
flying  around  me,  in  my  sleep,  for  two  or  three  nights 
thereafter,  reminding  me,  closely,  of  the  cherubs  carved 
on  ancient  tombstones,  —  all  head  and  wings,  —  though 
wings  alone  were  his  allowance.  Mrs.  Gray  persists  in 


40  OUT   OF   TOWN. 

saying  that  I  should  have  cut  off  only  the  feathered  por 
tion  of  his  wings,  and  not  subjected  the  bony  and  fleshy 
part  to  the  shears.  But  I  think,  if  it 's  done  at  all,  it 's 
best  to  make  a  clean  sweep  of  it,  and  never  leave  the 
fowl  a  ghost  of  a  chance  ever  to  fly  again.  I  am  sure 
the  aforementioned  one  never  did,  and  I  know,  if  I  suc 
ceed  in  catching  any  of  my  neighbor's  cocks  and  hens, 
they  never  will. 

I  came  very  near  to  catching  one  alive  the  other  day, 
and,  if  I  had,  I  would  have  made  an  example  of  him. 
As  it  was,  my  savage  friend's  dog,  Jack,  which  I  borrowed 
for  the  purpose,  chased  and  caught  the  finest  long-tailed, 
red-combed  rooster  which  my  neighbor  owned ;  but,  un 
fortunately,  he  killed  him  before  I  could  get  at  him  to 
cut  his  wings.  That  same  dog,  when,  the  following  day, 
I  set  him  on  a  dilapidated  old  hen,  who  was  fattening 
herself  on  my  biggest  and  ripest  tomatoes,  took  it  into 
his  head  to  seize  the  red  calf  of  the  wild  Irish  girl,  who 
attends  to  the  pot  and  kettle  branch  of  the  housekeep 
ing  dowrn  in  the  kitchen,  which  she  unwittingly  and 
temptingly  displayed  before  him.  The  result  was  a  ter 
rible  outcry  and  commotion  in  the  garden,  the  loss  of 
the  exile's  services  as  a  scrub,  a  suit  brought  against  my 
savage  literary  friend  for  damages  to  her  feelings  and 
person,  and  the  surgeon's  bill,  which  I  have  agreed  to 
pay. 


OUT   OF  TOWN.  41 


CHAPTER  Vin. 

Our  Policeman.  —  Our  Silver  and  Jewels.  —  Police  Duties.  —  How  we  were 
shocked.  —  A  Night  Alarm.  —  Burglars. — A  Bat.  —  In  the  Basement. — 
Naked  Feet.  —  Other  Feet.  —  Miss  Floy's  Courage.  —  An  Owl.  —  Cats. 
The  First  Shot. —  The  Result.  — A  Charge. —An  Outside  Attack.— 
Several  Shots. — A  Recognition.  —  Liberation.  —  Explanations.  —  The 
Toast. 

have  a  policeman  in  our  village.  He  is  a  very 
nice-looking  fellow,  and  gets  himself  up  in  fine 
style.  The  regulation  uniform  of  blue,  ornament 
ed  with  the  representative  brass  buttons,  fits  him  uncom 
monly  well.  When  I  first  discovered  him,  a  day  or  two 
after  our  arrival,  just  at  nightfall,  going  by  Woodbine  Cot 
tage,  I  called  my  wife's  attention  to  him,  and  expatiated, 
at  some  length,  upon  the  benefit  which  might  arise  from 
his  proximity  to  our  residence. 

"  If  a  burglar,  my  dear,"  I  said,  "  should  attempt,  some 
dark  night,  to  force  his  way  into  our  dwelling,  despite  the 
bolts  and  bars  with  which  our  doors  and  windows  are  se 
cured,  to  get  at  our  silver  and  jeAvels,"  —  here  Mrs.  Gray 
looked  at  the  spoons  on  the  table  and  the  wedding-ring  on 
her  finger,  —  "  it  will  be  a  satisfaction  to  know  that  such  a 
bold  and  brave-looking  policeman  is  about." 

"  Of  course,"  said  my  wife  ;  "  and  I  suppose,  too,  that  if 
wandering  cows  or  pigs  get  into  the  garden  in  the  night, 
he  will  be  polite  enough  to  drive  them  out." 

"  Oh,  yes,"  I  replied  ;  "  I  believe  that,  in  the  rural  dis 
tricts,  this  is  one  of  their  prescribed  duties." 

The  sight  of  that  policeman  certainly  was  a  source  of 
much  comfort  to  both  my  wife  and  myself.  We  felt  much 
more  secure  at  night,  believing  him  to  be  keeping  faithful 
watch  and  guard  about  our  humble  cottage,  than  we  should 


42  OUT  OF  TOWN. 

otherwise  have  felt.  It  was  with  a  feeling  of  unusual  satis 
faction  that  I  used  to  see  that  policeman,  in  the  early 
dawn,  while  I  was  performing  my  morning  ablutions,  going 
homeward  past  our  cottage.  He  never  appeared  weary,  as 
one  would  expect  a  policeman  who  is  up  all  night  to  be ; 
but  he  strode  along,  in  the  dewy  dawn,  with  the  freshness 
of  a  morning-glory  and  the  vigor  of  an  elm.  He  looked  as 
if  he  enjoyed  the  matin  songs  of  the  birds  ;  but,  most  of  all, 
it  seemed  to  me  as  if  he  was  getting  up  a  good  appetite, 
and  would  be  thoroughly  ready  for  his  breakfast  of  ham 
and  eggs  when  he  got  }lome. 

oo  o 

Every  one  in  Woodbine  Cottage,  from  the  eldest  to  the 
youngest,  felt  the  safer  for  the  proximity  of  that  police 
man.  In  starlight  and  moonlight  nights,  when  the  air 
was  chilly  and  when  it  was  warm,  when  it  rained  and 
when  it  was  clear,  when  the  winds  blew  and  when  they 
were  whist,  we  all  slept  the  more  peacefully  for  his  wake- 
fulness  ;  and,  if  a  passing  footstep  disturbed  our  slumbers, 
we  only  roused  up  enough  to  say  to  one  another,  "  It  is, 
doubtless,  our  policeman  on  his  round ;  let  us  shut  our 
eyes  again  and  go  to  sleep." 

Possessed  of  this  confidence  in  his  watchfulness,  it  was, 
therefore,  with  a  degree  of  disappointment  which  words 
cannot  express  that  we  learned  that  the  policeman  whom 
we  had  fondly  imagined  to  be  our  policeman  was  not,  and 
never  had  been,  ours,  but  was  enrolled  in  and  belonged  to 
the  Metropolitan  Police  Department,  and  went  nightly  to 
his  field  of  labor  somewhere  within  the  boundaries  of  New 
York  island.  It  was  a  great  shock  to  us  when  we  ascer 
tained  this  fact,  and,  until  I  got  a  brace  of  revolvers,  we 
used  to  go  to  bed  with  much  fear  and  trembling. 

One  night,  after  I  had  discovered  that  we  did  not  own  a 
policeman  in  our  village,  I  .was  aroused  from  my  slumbers 
by  a  singular  noise,  which  proceeded  from  the  basement, 
resembling  very  much  that  which  might  be  produced  by 
some  one  forcing  the  door  at  the  head  of  the  stairs.  My 


OUT  OF  TOWN.  43 

wife,  who  is  a  very  resolute  woman,  was  the  first  to  hear  it, 
and  called  my  attention  to  it  by  nudging  me  violently  with 
her  elbows  in  the  region  where  my  heart  has  its  abid 
ing-place,  and  whispering  in  an  ominous  tone  the  word 
thieves !  As  my  sleep  had  been  disturbed  by  dreams  of 
robbers  and  garroters,  I  was  fully  prepared  to  learn  that 
burglars  were  holding  high-carnival  down-stairs.  A  lamp 
was  dimly  burning  in  the  upper  hall,  the  light  from  which 
shone  dimly  through  the  open  door  into  my  room,  casting 
weird  shadows,  which  rose  and  fell  in  a  mysterious  manner, 
as  the  night  wind  blew  fitfully  upon  it  through  the  raised 
window-sash.  Once  I  thought  that  the  shadow  of  a  man's 
head  moved  swiftly  across  the  ceiling,  and  I  instinctively 
listened  to  hear  the  sound  of  his  footsteps  in  the  passage 
way.  But  nothing  followed,  only  the  shadow  went  back 
across  the  ceiling,  and  passed  swiftly  out  of  the  chamber 
door. 

"  What  the  deuce  do  you  suppose  that  is  ?  "  I  asked,  in 
a  subdued  tone.  My  wife  replied  that  she  did  n't  know, 
but  that  she  had  been  watching  it.  and  wondering,  for  sev 
eral  minutes,  from  what  it  proceeded.  It  would  appear 
and  disappear  in  a  moment,  and  sometimes  it  was  accom 
panied  with  a  rustling  noise,  as  if  it  had  wings. 

"  Wings  ! "  I  exclaimed ;  "  yes,  yes,  I  see  what  it  is  now," 
as  it  whirled  into  and  out  of  the  room  again  at  that  mo 
ment  ;  "  it  is  a  bat." 

"  A  bat ! "  my  wife  screamed,  forgetful  of  the  robbers 
down  below ;  "  goodness,  how  you  frighten  me  !  They  're 
the  bloodthirsty  things  that  suck  children's  breaths,  are 
they  not?" 

"  Not  that  I  have  ever  heard,"  I  replied.  "  To  cats,  not 
bats,  my  dear,  are  ascribed  such  horrible  proclivities." 

"  Hark  I "  she  whispered,  grasping  my  arm  ;  "  there  is 
that  noise  again  down-stairs,  and  —  good  gracious !  —  what 
is  that  ?  " 

This  last  exclamation  was  called  forth  by  a  sound,  as  of 


44  OUT   OF  TOWN. 

warning,  uttered  in  a  low  semi-tone,  which  evidently  pro 
ceeded  from  a  confederate  on  watch  outside,  just  beneath 
our  window,  and  who,  doubtless,  had  discovered  that  we 
were  awake  and  alarmed. 

"  Hand  the  baby  to  me  from  his  tender,"  my  wife  added, 
"  and  you  go  and  see  if  it  be  really  burglars  who  are  dis 
turbing  our  rest." 

Slipping  on  my  dressing-gown,  and  arming  myself  with 
a  Colt's  revolver,  which  I  took  from  its  case,  which  I  keep 
in  my  dressing-table  drawer,  and  taking  the  lamp  in  my 
unarmed  hand,  I  proceeded  resolutely  to  the  head  of  the 
stairs  leading  down  into  the  hall.  Just  as  I  reached  it,  my 
literary  young  lady,  whose  manuscript  is  still  unfinished, 
aroused  by  our  movements,  softly  opened  the  door  of  her 
room,  and  appeared  before  me  in  the  most  charming  of 
night  toilets,  bordered  with  little  frills,  and  edgings,  and 
bits  of  lace,  and  asked  what  was  the  matter. 

When  I  whispered  the  word  "•  burglar,"  she  turned  very 
pale,  but  compressed  her  lips  resolutely,  and  gave  me  to 
understand,  by  going  back  to  her  room  and  returning  with 
my  famous  charter-oak  cane  in  her  hand,  that  she  would 
accompany  me. 

There  is  a  good  deal  of  comfort  experienced,  when  look 
ing  for  burglars,  in  catching  sight  of  a  pair  of  bare,  white 
little  feet,  as  they  come  tripping  down  the  stairway  to  join 
you  in  your  dangerous  explorations.  To  be  sure,  those  feet 
do  not,  and  never  may,  belong  to  you.  Perhaps,  for  that 
very  reason,  they  are  the  more  interesting  to  you  than  they 
would  otherwise  be.  You  know  all  about  the  grace  and 
beauty  pertaining  to  your  wife's  feet,  and  have  doubtless 
often  seen  them  sink  into  the  velvet  rug  at  the  side  of  your 
bed.  You  know  the  exact  size  of  the  gaiter-boot  she  wears, 
and  have  been  commissioned,  time  and  again,  to  bring 
home  to  her  a  new  pair.  Not  always,  to  be  sure,  are  you 
successful  in  fitting  her  with  the  first  pair ;  but  then  it  is 
no  more  than  proper  for  a  husband  to  run  between  his 


OUT   OF  TOWN.  45 

wife's  feet  and  a  shoemaker  at  least  five  or  six  times  before 
he  obtains  the  correct  "  fit."  You  have  put  her  slippers 
on,  and  laced  her  gaiters  for  her  many  a  time,  and  know 
all  about  the  ins  and  outs  of  those  blessed  pedals  ;  but  the 
naked  little  feet  of  another  woman  you  are  presumed  to 
know  nothing  about ;  and  when,  therefore,  they  come  danc 
ing  behind  you  after  midnight,  helping  to  catch  burglars, 
as  Miss  Floy's  did  with  me,  you  can't  very  well  avoid  look 
ing  at  and  admiring  them. 

When  we  reached  the  door  at  the  head  of  the  stairs,  I 
stopped  to  listen  before  drawing  the  bolt.  All  was  silent, 
save  the  chirp  of  a  cricket,  which  had  a  home  in  a  crevice 
of  the  unused  fireplace  ;  but  outside  again  arose  the  singu 
lar  cry  of  the  confederate  burglar,  in  a  long-drawn  sepul 
chral  note. 

"  Do  you  hear  that  ? "  I  asked.  "  That  is  the  burglar 
keeping  watch  outside." 

"  ^Nonsense,"  said  Miss  Floy  ;  "  that  is  an  owl." 

"  An  owl !  "  I  exclaimed.  "  Well,  then,  I  '11  bet  there  is 
no  burg'ar  inside." 

And  I  courageously  opened  the  door,  and  walked  delib 
erately  down  the  stairs.  There  was  a  fierce  rush  for  a 
Avindow ;  a  rattle  of  tin  pans  ;  a  discharge  of  one  barrel 
of  my  pistol ;  screams  of  agony  ;  a  heavy  fall ;  and  one 
out  of  a  half-dozen  cats,  which  escaped  through  a  broken 
pane  of  glass,  fell  upon  the  floor. 

Then  my  wife  above-stairs  began  to  scream  murder, 
putting  her  head  out  of  the  window,  the  better  to  let  the 
neighbors  hear  her,  and  Miss  Floy,  who  had  remained  at 
the  head  of  the  stairs  with  the  lamp  in  her  hand,  as  soon 
as  the  pistol  was  fired,  hastened  frightened  away,  letting 
the  door,  which  had  a  spring-lock,  only  to  be  opened  from 
the  hall,  close  upon  me,  leaving  me  in  darkness  and  sur 
rounded  by  I  did  n't  know  how  many  wild  and  dying  cats. 
From  the  violent  way  in  which  that  feline  monster  trav 
elled  around  the  kitchen,  I  thought  there  must  be  at  least 


46  OUT  OF   TOWN. 

three  or  four  of  them,  and  I  expected  every  moment  that 
one  of  them  would  attack  my  unprotected  legs.  Once, 
when  he  got  into  the  flour-barrel,  I  thought  I  had  him,  and 
immediately  fired  my  pistol  into  it ;  but  the  only  result 
was  a  scattering  of  flour  all  over  me,  and  a  seeming  multi 
plication  of  the  number  of  cats.  That  old  Tom  appeared 
to  be  alive  in  nine  places  at  one  moment.  Spirits  could  n't 
be  more  active  ;  the  servants'  cups  and  saucers  rolled  off 
of  the  dresser  ;  the  handle*  of  the  coffee-mill  whirled  round  ; 
the  tea-kettle  fell  from  the  range  ;  the  dripping-pan  was 
tossed  over  the  iron  pot,  which  struck  against  the  sauce 
pan,  and  which  in  turn  fell  with  a  crash  upon  a  lot  of 
empty  bottles.  At  last  the  stove-pipe  gave  way,  under  an 
impetuous  charge,  and,  taking  a  flying  leap  over  my  shoul 
ders,  grimalkin  lodged  on  the  top  step  of  the  stairway,  next 
to  the  door.  Here  was  a  dilemma.  I  knew  the  cat  must 
be  an  exceedingly  vicious  one,  for  all  the  cats  in  our  neigh 
borhood  are,  and,  under  his  present  state  of  excitement, 
he  would  be  likely  to  attack  any  one  who  might  open  the 
door  above  him  or  attempt  to  drive  him  away  from  below. 
I  was  much  afraid  that  my  wife  or  Miss  Floy,  one  of  whom 
would  of  course,  I  thought,  come  down  to  see  what  was 
detaining  me.  would  open  the  door  and  admit  the  cat  to 
the  upper  part  of  the  house,  and  in  passing  he  would  un 
doubtedly  attack  whoever  was  standing  there. 

The  outcry  my  wife  made  from  the  upper  window  had,  I 
discovered,  borne  fruit,  and  I  could  hear,  through  the 
broken  window,  the  voice  of  my  savage  literary  friend, 
who,  at  the  front  of  the  house,  was  parleying  with  the  in 
mates  to  get  in.  But  they,  thinking  that  he  was  one  of 
the  burglars,  refused  to  let  him  in,  and  resolutely  shut 
and  barred  the  window.  I  tried  to  make  him  hear  me  ; 
but,  what  with  being  at  the  rear  of  the  house,  and  the 
noise  the  night  breeze  made  as  it  rustled  through  the 
waving  corn  at  the  side  of  the  house,  my  voice  failed  to 
reach  his  ears.  I  would  have  gotten  out  of  the  window, 


OUT  OF   TOWN.  47 

but  it  was  screwed  down ;  and,  though  cats  could  go 
through  the  broken  pane,  it  would  have  been  impossible 
for  me  to  have  passed  after  them.  I  did  n't  like  to  attack 
the  cat  crouched,  ready  for  a  spring,  on  the  stairway,  and  I 
was  afraid  to  fire  at  it  again  lest  I  might  shoot  some  one 
through  the  door.  I  wondered,  too,  why  neither  my  wife 
nor  Miss  Floy  had  come  to  my  assistance,  and  only  learned, 
after  I  succeeded  in  getting  out  of  my  cell,  that  both,  after 
the  appearance  of  the  supposed  outside  burglar,  had  in- 
gloriously  fainted. 

At  last  a  happy  idea  struck  me.  I  would  fire  another 
barrel  of  my  pistol  out  of  the  window,  and  that  would  at 
tract  my  savage  literary  friend  to  my  side  of  the  house.  I 
no  sooner  thought  of  this  than  I  acted  upon  it  —  bang 
went  my  pistol.  Scarcely  had  the  report  subsided,  when 
bang  went  a  pistol  outside,  and,  to  my  astonishment  and 
fear,  I  heard  the  ball  strike  the  wall  close  beside  me. 

"  What  the  deuce  do  you  mean  by  that  ?  "  I  cried. 

"  Surrender,  surrender,  you  bloody  villain  you,  or  I  '11 
put  another  ball  right  through  your  heart ! "  was  all  the 
consolation  I  got  from  my  savage  literary  friend  outside. 
"  I  've  got  you  fairly  covered,  you  rascal,  and  you  can't  hit 
me,  for  I  'm  behind  the  big  tree  ;  but  I  '11  send  you  to  the 
other  world  directly  if  you  don't  throw  your  pistol  right 
out  of  the  window  into  the  yard." 

As  I  knew  my  friend  was  a  determined  chap,  and  cared 
no  more  for  killing  a  fellow-creature  —  he  'd  been  off  to 
the  wars  with  the  old  Sixty-ninth  Regiment  —  than  I 
would  for  killing  a  cat,  I  thought  it,  under  the  circum 
stances,  wise  to  surrender.  So,  without  another  word,  I 
threw  the  pistol  through  the  window,  and,  as  it  happened 
to  be  cocked,  which  I  had  forgotten,  it  exploded  with  a 
report  that  not  only  astonished  but  alarmed  me. 

"  Oh  !  you  villain  you  !  "  exclaimed  my  savage  literary 
friend,  "but  you  came  near  killing  me  that  time.  It's 
only  the  tree  saved  me  from  being  a  dead  man.  But  I  '11 
fix  you  out  now." 


48  OUT  OF   TOWN. 

"  For  Heaven's  sake,  Jack  !  "  I  exclaimed,  "  don't  fire 
again,  and  I  '11  surrender  body  and  soul." 

"  What,  what !  "  he  exclaimed  ;  "  is  that  you,  Barry  ? 
I  thought  it  was  some  infernal  burglar.  What  are  you 
about  down  there  ?  Why  don't  you  go  up-stairs  ?  " 

"  For  the  very  good  reason,"  I  answered,  "  that  I  cannot. 
The  door  is  fastened,  and  I  can't  get  it  open.  Come  into 
the  house  and  let  me  out." 

"  They  won't  let  me  in,"  he  replied. 

"  They ! "  I  exclaimed.  "  Who  do  you  mean  by  '  they  ? ' 
Surely  there  are  n't  any  burglars  in  the  house,  after  all,  are 
there?" 

"  I  don't  know,"  he  replied  ;  "  but  your  wife  and  Miss 
Floy  refused  to  let  me  in.  They  took  me,  I  believe,  for  a 
burglar.  They  were  making  a  terrible  outcry  at  one 
time,  but  they  've  been  remarkably  quiet  for  the  last  five 
minutes.  I  '11  try  the  front  of  the  house  again,  and  see 
what  can  be  done." 

Fortunately  my  wife  had  recovered  her  consciousness, 
and,  when  my  friend  called  her  by  name,  recognized  his 
voice,  and  after  a  little  explanation,  came  down-stairs  and 
let  him  in.  He  immediately  came  to  the  kitchen-door  to 
open  it  for  me,  and  though  the  unfortunate  cat  was  far 
gone  toward  that  bourne  where  no  caterwauls  are  heard,  he 
yet  retained  sufficient  life  to  utter  a  protest  against  my 
friend's  stepping  upon  him,  in  the  shape  of  several  sharp 
claws  inserted  into  his  right  leg. 

The  exclamation  my  friend  made  was  not  of  a  most 
Christian  character,  and  I  truly  believe  that,  for  a  moment, 
he  thought  the  burglars  had  really  got  him  ;  but  when  he 
saw  me,  all  covered  with  flour,  —  my  face,  hair,  and  dress 
ing  gown  thick  with  it,  —  he  forgot  his  pain,  and  laughed 
heartily  at  my  appearance. 

But  all 's  well  that  ends  well,  and  though  some  of  us 
were  materially  frightened  by  the  events  of  the  night,  yet, 
after  we  had  assembled  together  in  the  library,  and  had 


OUT  OF  TOWN.  49 

related  our  several  experiences,  and  a  bottle  of  California 
hock  had  been  opened,  and  each  had  drank  my  friend's 
toast  of  ''  The  Lord  love  ye,"  we  once  more  retired,  thank 
ful  that  nothing  really  evil 'had  happened  to  any  one  of  us, 
to  our  peaceful  rest,  where  we  passed  the  remainder  of  the 
night  undisturbed  by  burglars  or  the  fear  of  them. 


50  OUT  OF  TOWN. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

An  Artists'  Convention  at  Woodbine  Cottage.  —  Salt  Codfish.  —  A  Mir 
acle  desired.  —  The  Stark  Blood.  —  Hampers.  —  Scarcity  of  Bed 
rooms.  —  The  Remedy.  —  A  Calumny  ;  how  I  refuted  it.  —  Mint- 
Juleps;  where  they  were  invented;  a  good  Time  to  drink  them.  — 
Who  my  Friends  were. 


of  my  artist  friends  have  been  visiting 
Woodbine  Cottage.  They  came  out  in  a  body 
one  Saturday  afternoon,  and  brought  their  ra 
tions  with  them.  As  they  proposed  to  stay  until  the  fol 
lowing  Monday  morning,  they  were  wise  in  so  doing  ;  for, 
though  Mrs.  Gray  had  provided  munificently  for  the  family 
proper,  yet  she  had  not  laid  in  a  sufficient  store  of  the 
good  things  of  this  life  to  have  satisfied,  in  a  hospitable 
manner,  the  additional  appetites  which  gathered  around 
our  mahogany.  Even  before  Mrs.  B.  G.  knew  that  they 
were  going  to  remain  with  us  all  night,  she  was  in  a  state 
of  the  greatest  excitement  in  regard  to  getting  them  a 
dinner. 

"  One  cannot  expect,"  she  very  justly  remarked,  "  that 
ten  hungry  men  —  and  I  never  knew  any  one  to  come 
from  town  who  was  not  as  hungry  as  a  bear  when  he  got 
here  —  will  be  satisfied  with  the  simple  salt  codfish  and 
potatoes  which  you,  adhering  to  the  fashion  of  your  Nan- 
tucket  ancestors,  will  persist  in  having  for  your  Saturday's 
dinner.  How  often  have  I  told  you  that  Friday  was  fish- 
day,  and  not  Saturday  ?  " 

"  Why,"  I,  exclaimed,  interrupting  her,  "  I  should  say  it 
would  average  about  fifty-two  times  a  year  since  our  mar 
riage,  and  that  would  make  it  " 

"  Never  mind,  Mr.  Gray,"  she  continued,  "  about  figur 
ing  that  up  now.  Pray  talk  sensibly  for  a  moment." 


OUT   OF   TOWN.  51 

"  Certainly,  my  dear,"  I  replied ;  "  but  what  do  you 
wish  me  to  say  ?  " 

"  I  don't  wish  you  to  say  anything,  but  I  want  you  to  do 
something.  IShow  me  how  I  can,  with  that  one  small  cod 
fish,  provide  your  friends  with  a  dinner." 

"  Let  me  think  a  moment,"  I  said.  After  a  pause,  dur 
ing  which  I  gazed  steadily  into  my  wife's  face,  the  expres 
sion  on  which  was  of  the  most  hopeless  character,  I  added  : 
"  If  a  miracle,  my  dear,  could  be  wrought,  similar  to 
that  which  occurred  early  in  the  Christian  era,  when  a 
multitude  was  fed  with  several  small  fishes,  to  say  nothing 
of  a  few  loaves  of  bread,  we  might  hope  to  satisfy  our 
visitors ;  but  as  we  cannot  expect  an  intervention  of  that 
kind  in  our  favor,  why,  I  think  the  best  plan  will  be  to  tell 
our  friends  " 

"  Tour  friends,  not  mine,  Mr.  Gray,"  interrupted  my 
wife ;  "  if  they  were  mine,  they  would  have  more  consider 
ation  for  me,  and  not  have  come  here  so  unexpectedly." 

"  I  think  the  best  plan  will  be,"  I  repeated,  not  heeding 
my  wife's  remark,  "  for  me  to  tell  them  that  we  have  been 
to  dinner  ever  so  long  ago,  and  that,  if  they  're  hungry, 
they  had  better  go  to  the  hotel  and  order  dinner  there." 

"  Never !  Mr.  Gray,"  my  wife  exclaimed,  energetically, 
"  as  long  as  there  is  a  chicken  in  the  coop,  a  potato,  an  ear 
of  corn,  and  a  tomato  growing  in  the  garden,  would  I  do 
so  disgraceful  a  thing.  I  'd  get  dinner  for  them  if  there 
were  fifty  instead  of  ten,  and  I  knew  I  should  die  in 
doing  it." 

The  old  Stark  blood,  which,  fortunately,  was  not  spilled 
at  the  battle  of  Bennington,  was  stirred  in  her  veins,  and 
she  appeared  equal  to  the  emergency. 

Just  at  that  moment,  when  I  began  to  fear  that  my  favor 
ite  cocks  and  hens  might  suffer  decapitation,  an  express- 
wagon  drove  up  to  the  door,  and  several  hampers  were 
lifted  out  of  it  and  brought  into  the  house.  Their  contents 
were  speedily  produced,  and  my  wife  had  the  agreeable 


52  OUT  OF  TOWN. 

satisfaction  of  knowing  that,  even  if  my  friends  should 
remain  with  us  a  week,  the  provisions  would  hold  out  until 
the  end. 

Although  the  question  as  to  how  my  friends  were  to  be 
fed  was  thus  happily  set  at  rest,  it  still  remained  a  source 
of  anxiety  with  me  as  to  how  they  were  to  be  disposed  of 
when  night  came.  I  had,  in  reality,  but  one  spare  bed 
room,  and  that  was  already  occupied  by  my  literary  young 
lady.  It  would  not  be  exactly  the  thing,  I  reasoned,  to  ask 
her  to  remove  herself,  with  her  extra  hoops,  frilled  skirts, 
gaiter  boots,  and  other  interesting  paraphernalia  of  a  young 
woman's  wardrobe,  —  which,  in  passing  her  room  when  the 
door  was  open,  I  had  noticed  displayed  alluringly,  but,  I 
must  confess,  negligently,  on  the  chairs  and  floor  of  the 
apartment,  —  to  the  nursery,  that  thereby  a  couple  of  artists 
might  the  better  be  accommodated.  And  even  if  she 
should,  it  would  only  put  two  of  my  friends  to  bed,  and 
then,  "  What  would  become  of  the  others  ? "  would  still 
remain  an  unanswered  question.  To  be  sure,  the  sofa  in 
the  library  would  hold  one  more,  and  the  extension-table 
in  the  dining-room  might  be  drawn  out  to  its  fullest  length, 
fourteen  feet,  and  on  it  four  more,  if  they  would  be  careful 
in  turning  over,  might  manage  to  get  a  wink  of  sleep. 
Thus  seven  would  be  disposed  of,  and  chairs  and  the  floor 
would  have  to  be  the  couches  of  the  remainder.  I  ar 
ranged  this  thus  in  my  mind,  but  it  was  far  from  being 
satisfactory  ;  and  when,  therefore,  my  savage  literary  friend 
offered  to  take  five  of  them  off  my  hands,  I  was  extremely 
thankful,  and  was  encouraged  to  tell  Mrs.  Gray  that  my 
friends  were  going  to  stay  with  us  till  Monday. 

To  my  surprise,  Mrs.  G.  said  she  was  glad  of  it,  for  she 
knew  the  greater  part  of  the  provisions  they  had  brought 
with  them  would  spoil,  if  they  did  n't  remain  to  eat  it. 

When  I  asked  her  where  she  intended  to  have  them 
sleep,  she  said  she  had  no  intentions  about  it,  but  that  they 
might  sleep  where  they  liked.  There  was  room  enough 


OUT  OF  TOWN.  53 

on  the  floor  of  the  dining-room  for  twenty  men  ;  and  she 
rather  thought,  judging  from  the  number  of  demijohns  and 
bottles  they  had  brought  with  them,  that  the  larger  part  of 
them  would  probably  find  the  floor  more  convenient  than 
any  bed  would  be. 

This  was  a  calumny  on  the  part  of  my  wife  which  I  re 
futed  with  much  feeling ;  and,  as  she  acknowledged  to  me 
afterward  that  she  was  in  error,  I  have  refrained  from  let 
ting  my  friends  know  of  this  expression.  The  fact  is  that, 
though  my  artist  friends,  with  few  exceptions,  can  enjoy  a 
social  glass,  not  one  of  them  ever  allows  himself  to  pass 
the  bounds  which  prudence  and  good  sense  dictate  as 
proper.  The  result  is  a  general  feeling  of  conviviality,  an 
agreeable  commingling  of  hearts,  and  an  approach  to  a 
millennium  state  of  happiness. 

The  first  words  which  my  life-long  friend  G.  uttered  on 
entering  my  humble  domains,  and  which  did  honor  alike 
to  his  nice  sense  of  smell  and  his  fine  appreciation  of  the 
herbs  of  the  earth,  were,  "  I  smell  mint."  The  truth  is 
that,  if  one  herb  grows  better  than  another  in  my  garden, 
it  is  mint ;  and,  when  I  saw  this  imposing  procession  of 
artists  marching  two  by  two  toward  my  house,  I  immedi 
ately  plucked  a  handful  of  mint,  which  I  bruised  against 
the  gate-posts  which  command  the  entrance  to  my  posses 
sions. 

"  For,"  I  said  to  myself,  "  I  will  welcome  them  with  sweet 
savors,  and  make  their  tarrying  with  me  one  of  pleasant 
ness  and  peace." 

I  defy  any  man,  I  don't  care  who  he  be,  who  grows  mint 
in  his  grounds,  to  resist,  in  a  summer's  day,  the  delights  of 
a  mint-julep.  It  is  the  only  drink  which  might  have  been 
made  in  Eden.  There,  in  that  pleasant  garden  where  our 
first  parents  spent  the  only  innocent  portion  of  their  lives, 
methinks  the  mint  must  have  been  a  familiar  plant.  I 
can  imagine  how  Adam  and  Eve,  walking  in  blissful  inno 
cence  across  the  dewy  fields  in  the  early  morning,  convers- 


54  OUT  OF   TOWN. 

ing  of  love,  were  arrested  in  their  way  by  the  delightful  per 
fume  which  was  exhaled  by  the  humble  plant  upon  which 
their  virgin  footsteps  trod.  Adam  doubtless  paused  to 
pluck  a  few  of  the  leaves,  and,  after  regaling  himself  with 
their  savor,  passed  them  to  Eve.  She,  woman-like,  upon 
their  return  at  evening  to  their  home  in  that  lovely  bower 
which  Milton  so  charmingly  describes,  probably  sought  to 
make  "  tea "  of  them.  This  was,  however,  to  all  intents 
and  purposes,  a  failure.  But  Adam,  who  knew  one  or  two 
more  things  than  Eve,  doubtless  kept  turning  the  matter 
over  in  his  mind,  while  chewing  the  mint  leaves  in  his 
mouth,  and  finally,  perhaps  on  the  very  day  he  discovered 
the  milk  in  the  cocoa-nut,  and  which,  on  exposure  to  the 
sun,  was  fermented  into  a  sort  of  wine,  found  that,  by 
steeping  the  sprigs  of  the  former  in  the  juice  of  the  latter, 
a  new  and  first-class  drink  was  thereby  concocted,  —  a 
draught  which  was,  as  he  doubtless  remarked  to  Mrs. 
Adam,  "  a  jewel  to  the  lip."  This  phrase,  in  course  of 
time,  passing  through  the  tongues  of  much  posterity,  was 
curtailed  of  its  fair  proportions,  and  became  at  last,  in  our 
day,  a  "julep." 

Many  worse  things  than  juleps  have  come  down  to  us 
from  Adam,  —  sin  and  sorrow,  and  a  whole  Pandora's  box 
of  suffering. 

When,  therefore,  G.,  the  friend  of  my  boyhood,  said  he 
smelt  mint,  and  the  grave,  bald,  and  long-bearded  TV.  reit 
erated  his  words,  I  did  not  wait  for  any  one  else  to  speak, 
and,  by  the  time  that  the  last  of  the  procession  had  entered 
the  gateway,  a  dozen  goblets  gleaming  with  ice,  golden  with 
whiskey,  softened  with  sugar,  and  fragrant  with  mint,  were 
awaiting  them  in  the  library. 

It  is  a  hot  and  dusty  ride  from  the  city  to  TVoodbine  Cot 
tage,  and,  in  travelling  it,  one  is  apt  to  get  very  thirsty ; 
but  a  mint-julep,  if  it  be  long  enough,  effectually  cools  the 
heated  blood  and  moistens  the  dusty  throat. 

In  addition  to  the  two  friends  already  mentioned,  —  the 


OUT  OF  TOWN.  55 

first  of  whom  is  distinguished,  in  the  world  of  art,  for  his 

O  ' 

golden  sunsets  and  silvery  coast-scenes,  and  the  latter,  by 
his  mountain  twilights  and  old-fashioned  interiors,  —  I  had 
the  pleasure  of  welcoming  him  whose  pictures  of  California 
scenery  have  the  breadth  and  the  grandeur  of  the  moun 
tains  and  the  valleys  they  depict.  There,  too,  was  one  who 
delights  to  represent  upon  his  canvas  those  late  autumns, 
when  the  naked  limbs  of  trees  stand  out  against  the  cold, 
gray  sky,  and  the  dry,  brown  leaves  rustle  under  foot. 
And  he  ^as  there  who  painted,  with  poetic  feeling,  a 
"  Christmas  Eve,"  wherein  a  troop  of  fairy  spirits  is  ring 
ing  a  merry  peal  on  the  brazen  bell  high  up  in  the  moon 
lighted  belfry  of  an  old  stone  church,  on  a  cold,  clear  mid 
night.  And  the  sculptor  who  brings  out  of  the  marble 
forms  of  beauty ;  and  one  who  portrays  your  living  self 
upon  the  canvas  ;  and  another  who,  in  the  guise  of  ani 
mals,  shows  up  humanity  and  its  foibles  ;  and  still  another 
whose  genre  pictures  of  childhood  .and  home-life  are  of  the 
tendcrest  character;  and,  lastly,  he  who  loves  to  represent 
the  snow-clad  mountains  of  Switzerland  and  our  own  north 
ern  land,  were,  by  ties  of  friendship,  brought  together  to 
Woodbine  Cottage. 

It  would  make  too  long  a  story  were  I  to  tell  here  how 
merrily  the  hours,  while  they  Avere  with  me,  went  by.  The 
songs  that  were  sung,  the  tales  that  were  told,  and  the  puns 
that  were  perpetrated  may  never  be  recorded  ;  but  the  de 
light  of  that  time  will  ever  remain  fresh  and  green  in  my 
memory. 


56  OUT  OF  TOWN. 


CHAPTER   X. 

"  The  Flag  of  Freedom."  —Up  a  Tree.  —An  Echo.  —An  Artistic  Event 
J.  B.  Warwick,  Esq.  —  The  Great  and  Good. — A  Ccrner-lot,  and 
other  Lots.  —  Per  Centum.  —  A  First-class  Arrival.  —  My  Artist 
Friends.  —  Twelve  Hampers.  —  Three  Dollars  per  Annum.  —  The 
Banquet.  —  Artist  Appetites.  —  Usual  Diet.  —  My  Savage  Literary 
Friend's  Song.  —  The  Genial  Host.  —  "  Let  us  love  one  another."  — 
Finale. 

=lT  had  not  been  my  intention  to  have  written  any 
thing  further  than  was  set  forth  in  the  preceding 
sketch  concerning  the  visit  of  my  artist  friends 
to  Woodbine  Cottage.  But  as  the  editor  of  the  village 
newspaper,  "  The  Flag  of  Freedom,"  has  taken  the  liberty 
of  chronicling  in  its  veracious  columns  an  account  of  the 
proceedings,  I  am  induced,  knowing  that  the  circulation  of 
the  "  Flag "  is  quite  limited,  and  that  comparatively  few 
persons  would  be  likely  to  see  it,  to  transfer  it  to  the  pages 
of  this  volume.  How  the  editor  of  the  "  Flag  "  became 
possessed  of  the  information  necessary  to  enable  him  to 
write  the  detailed  report  of  the  visit  of  my  friends  — 
especially  the  account  of  the  dinner,  at  which  he  was  not 
present  —  was  a  mystery  to  me,  until  I  ascertained  that 
his  chief  reporter,  with  a  zeal  which  was  more  creditable 
to  his  enterprise  as  a  journalist  than  to  his  self-respect  as 
a  man,  occupied,  during  the  progress  of  the  feast,  an  un 
comfortable  position  on  a  limb  of  an  apple-tree  in  the 
orchard  adjoining  my  garden,  which  not  only  commanded 
an  uninterrupted  view  through  the  open  window  of  my 
dining-room,  but  was  within  easy  hearing-distance  of  the 
conversation  which  took  place  at  the  table.  This  cir 
cumstance  will  also  account  for  certain  mysterious  sounds 


OUT  OF   TOWN.  57 

which,  during  the  progress  of  the  dinner,  reached  our  ears, 
and  which  we  ascribed  to  an  echo.  Many  times  during  the 
evening,  when  a  good  story  had  been  told,  and  after  the 
appreciative  laughter  had  run  round  the  table,  a  subdued 
chuckle  would  be  heard,  which  seemed  so  like  a  miniature 
edition  of  the  Swiss  mountain-artist's  laugh,  that  we  one 
and  all  decided  it  to  be  the  echo  of  his  cachinnation.  I 
am  no\v  satisfied  that  it  proceeded  from  the  "  Flag's " 
reportorial  representative,  who  doubless  enjoyed  to  a  cer 
tain  extent  the  festivities  of  the  evening.  However,  it 
seems  to  me  that  our  reporter  could  have  found  only  about 
as  much  satisfaction  in  the  entertainment  as  Shacabac  did 
in  the  first  part  of  the  feast  of  the  Barmacide,  or  as  Sancho 
Panza  did  when  the  untasted  dishes  were  placed  before 
him. 

The  following  is  the  account  of  the  proceedings  taken 

FROM  "THE  FLAG  OF  FREEDOM." 
AN    ARTISTIC    EVENT. 

"  Several  times,  within  the  memory  of  the  oldest  inhab 
itant,  has  our  village  been  the  sojourning  place  of  dis 
tinguished  people.  The  primeval  occasion,  according  to 
J.  B.  Warwick,  Esq.,  on  which  a  first-class  notable  stopped 
for  a  night's  rest  in  our  delectable  hamlet,  was  when  the 
great  and  good  George  Washington,  who  enjoyed  the  sou 
briquet  of  '  The  Father  of  his  Country/  put  up,  shortly 
after  the  battle  of  White  Plains,  at  the  old  Powell  home 
stead,  situated  on  the  other  side  of  the  railroad  track,  and 
nearly  opposite  the  corner-lot  belonging  to  J.  B.  Warwick, 
Esq.,  which  corner-lot,  together  with  other  lands  owned 
by  the  same  proprietor,  and  contiguous  thereto,  is,  we  un 
derstand  from  a  perfectly  reliable  source,  for  sale.  Any 
one  desirous  of  purchasing  a  lot  in  this  eligible  locality,  will 
do  well  to  communicate  with  us  on  the  subject.  The  little 
percentage  which  will  go  into  our  p&rte-monnaie,  provided 


58  OUT  OF   TOWN. 

•we  dispose  of  one  or  more  of  these  lots,  although  a  small 
matter,  will  yet  enable  us  to  add  materially  to  our  stock 
of  cigars  and  whiskey. 

"  This  stoppage  of  '  the  great  and  good,'  as  we  said 
above,  was  the  first  event  of  the  kind  which  occurred  in 
the  history  of  our  village.  Since  then  many  notables 
have  come  and  gone  ;  but  we  cannot  stay  to  enumerate  all 
of  the  celebrated  personages  who  have  favored  us  in  this 
respect.  We  have  sometimes  thought  that  many  of  the 
persons  whose  names  are  inscribed  upon  the  roll  of  fame, 
owed  to  some  extent  their  renown  to  the  fact  that  they 
visited  our  village. 

"  In  our  present  article,  it  is  with  pleasure  that  we  record 
the  visit  to  Woodbine  Cottage  of  a  half-score  of  the  dis 
tinguished  artists  whose  pictures  at  the  National  Academy 
of  Design  gave  a  weight  and  character  to  it  which  it  would 
not  otherwise  have  possessed.  They  came  in  a  body,  on 
the  four  o'clock  train,  last  Saturday  afternoon.  It  is  to  be 
regretted  that  the  president  of  the  village,  and  all  others 
in  authority,  were  not  informed  of  the  intended  visit,  else 
they  would  doubtless  have  been  received  in  a  manner  be 
fitting  their  distinguished  character,  and  Luffy  might 
have  had  at  his  hotel  several  bowls  of  punch  prepared  for 
the  occasion.  As  it  was,  they  got  off  of  the  cars  in  the 
most  unpretentious  manner,  and  immediately  moved  in 
two  columns  to  Woodbine  Cottage. 

"The  genial  occupants  of  the  cottage  were  as  much 
taken  by  surprise  as  were  the  village  authorities.  They 
had  received  no  warning  of  the  intended  honor,  and  were 
therefore  unprepared  to  entertain  them.  The  artists  them 
selves,  however,  with  a  premonition  and  generosity  which 
did  honor  alike  to  their  heads  and  hearts,  had  provided  for 
this  emergency  in  a  most  munificent  manner.  Twelve 
hampers,  containing  edibles  and  drinkables  of  many  kinds, 
we  had  the  pleasure  of  observing  on  Whitny's  express- 
wagon  passing  our  office. 


OUT  OF  TOWN.  59 

"  If  one  of  those  hampers  —  we  do  not  greatly  care 
which,  but  would  have  preferred  the  one  containing  the 
'  Golden  Wedding '  champagne,  the  meat-pie,  the  cold 
duck  and  olives,  and  the  peaches,  pears,  and  melons  —  had 
been  left  at  our  residence  just  around  the  corner,  it  would 
have  been  a  most  satisfactory  and  agreeable  circumstance 
to  us,  and  we  would  have  placed  with  much  pleasure  upon 
our  newspaper  subscription-book,  as  dead-heads,  the  names 
of  all  the  artists  so  donating,  who  would  thereby  have  re 
ceived  '  The  Flag  of  Freedom '  for  one  year.  As  they, 
however,  omitted  to  perform  this  courteous  act,  we  can 
only  say  that  we  would  be  happy  to  furnish  them  with  the 
'  Flag '  at  the  lowest  subscription  price,  viz.,  three  dollars 
per  annum,  —  a  deduction  of  fifty  cents  from  the  regular 
price,  but  which  we  invariably  make  to  clergymen,  artists, 
and  literary  men. 

"  The  banquet  to  which  these  estimable  and  talented 
men  sat  down  at  Woodbine  Cottage,  on  Saturday  evening, 
was  of  the  most  gorgeous  and  tempting  character.  An 
immense  game-pie,  composed  of  ducks,  woodcocks,  quails, 
and  grouse,  ornamented  the  centre  of  the  table.  A  jugged 
hare  stood  at  one  end,  and  a  boned  turkey  at  the  other ; 
while  a  boiled  ham,  a  round  of  beef,  broiled  spring  chick 
ens,  ducks  stuffed  with  olives,  boned  sardines,  and  other 
appetizing  relishes,  were  scattered  at  convenient  distances. 
It  was  not  our  good  fortune  to  be  present  at  this  festival ; 
but  when,  from  the  elevated  position  we  occupied,  we 
heard  the  popping  of  champagne  corks,  and  the  various 
toasts  and  speeches  uttered  and  responded  to.  and  saw  the 
good  things  of  the  feast  disappear  before  the  appetites  of 
the  artists,  '  as  leaves  before  a  wild  hurricane  fly,'  our 
mouth  watered  and  our  stomach  craved  that  which  it  was 
not  our  privilege  to  enjoy. 

"  Until  we  saw  those  talented  and  estimable  gentlemen 
dispose  of  what  was  before  them,  we  had  been  possessed 
of  the  belief  that  they  lived  upon  less  sublunary  fare 


60  OUT  OF  TOWN. 

than  we  every-day  folks  ;  sunrises  and  sunsets,  moonlight 
and  starlight,  flowers  and  sea-foam,  were  a  few  of  the 
dishes  which  we  had  heretofore  given  them  credit  for  em 
ploying  in  their  regular  diet ;  but,  after  witnessing  their 
capabilities  with  the  knife  and  fork  at  Woodbine  Cottage, 
we  feel  compelled  to  state  that,  as  far  as  eating  and  drink 
ing  go,  they  will  compare  favorably  with  the  performance, 
in  that  line,  of  the  hungriest  men  we  ever  met. 

"  We  cannot  close  our  account  of  this  interesting  festi 
val  without  referring  to  the  happy  manner  in  which  Mr. 
G.'s  savage  literary  friend  sung  a  patriotic  song  of  his  own 
composing,  which  brought  down  the  house,  metaphorically 
speaking,  and  created  a  deep  and  abiding  sensation  in  the 
breasts  of  the  assembled  guests.  One  of  the  artists,  too, 
performed  an  Indian  war-dance,  which  he  learned  during  a 
short  residence  among  a  warlike  tribe  in  the  Rocky  Moun 
tains.  The  whoop  which  he  gave  semi-occasionally  during 
its  performance,  and  in  which  he  was  joined  by  the  com 
pany,  was  of  the  most  startling  character.  He  also  kindly 
offered  to  scalp  any  one  who  desired  to  have  this  little  act 
performed.  The  bald-headed  gentleman  of  foreign  birth 
was  the  only  one  of  the  party  who  had  the  courage  to  offer 
to  submit  to  the  operation ;  but  the  Rocky  Mountain  man 
said  it  could  n't  be  done  on  him,  and  begged  some  of  the 
others  to  come  forward.  They  all  declined,  however,  but 
said  that  if  they  only  wore  wigs  they  would  be  happy  to 
accommodate  him. 

"  We  must  not  neglect  to  speak  of  the  genial  and  sans- 
souci  manner  in  which  Mr.  Gray  presided  at  the  head  of 
the  table,  —  a  manner  which,  in  our  humble  opinion,  could 
only  be  equalled  by  that  in  which  the  presidents  of  the 
'  St.  Nicholas  '  and  the  '  Friendly  Sons  '  societies  may  be 
presumed  to  preside  on  the  occasion  of  their  annual  din 
ners.  His  parting  toast  of  '  Let  us  love  one  another,'  was 
given  with  a  gusto  and  cheeriness  which  entitled  the  giver 
to  be  credited  with  desiring,  with  his  whole  heart,  the  en 
tire  fulfilment  of  the  wish. 


OUT   OF   TOWN.  f,l 

"  We  shall  endeavor  to  give,  in  a  future  number  of  our 
widely-circulated  weekly,  a  further  account  of  the  proceed 
ings  of  the  '  Artist  Club  '  —  for  such  we  presume  it  is  — 
while  the  members  remained  at  Woodbine  Cottage." 

Thus  ends  the  account  of  the  dinner,  as  reported  in 
"  The  Flas  of  Freedom." 


62  OUT  OF  TOWN. 


CHAPTER  XL 

My  Melon-bed.  —  Temptation.  —  Outside  the  Palings.  —  Caught  in  the 
Act.  —  "  Hi !  hi !  "  —  My  Generosity.  —  Footprints  —  Stolen  Fruit.  — 
"  Black  Matan."  —  Old  Pokey.  —  Trouser  Legs.  —  Gumbo.  —  A  Dread 
ful  Miss. —  Providence.  —  ''Kind  Sir,"  she  said.  —  Funerals.  — Amen. 
An  Ugly  Dog.  —  Old  Mother  Hubbard.  —  Little  Boys'  Legs.  —  Horrible. 
A  Dog-Fight.  — Jack  vs.  Gumbo. 

HAVE  been  much  "  exercised  "  lately,  in  regard 
to  securing  my  crop  of  melons.  My  cantaloupes 
do  not  appear  to  be  equal  to  the  temptation  which, 
doubtless,  assails  them,  for  that  they  can  elope  nearly  every 
night  witnesseth  ;  while  my  nutmegs  disappear  faster  than 
ever  their  wooden  namesakes  of  Connecticut  did  from  a 
pedler's  wagon ;  and  my  watermelons  literally  water  the 
ground  with  their  sweet  juices,  for  many  yards,  in  the 
direction  of  the  village.  I  took  a  great  deal  of  pains  with 
my  melon-bed,  working  early  and  late  —  that  is,  late  in  the 
morning  and  early  in  the  evening  for  a  brief  period  every 
day  —  in  my  shirt-sleeves,  taking  the  starch  out  of  many 
collars,  and  destroying  the  polish  on  my  boots.  I  had  to 
put  the  melon-seeds  down  several  times,  too,  before  they 
would  come  up.  The  first  time  they  were  planted  too 
deep,  —  twelve  inches  is,  I  understand,  rather  deep  for 
these  seeds,  —  and,  the  next  time,  in  such  shallow  ground 
that  the  motherly  hens,  in  searching  for  early  worms,  came 
across  the  seeds  in  their  scratching  explorations  around 
the  garden,  and  unceremoniously  put  them  into  their  own 
and  their  chicks'  crops.  Then,  when  the  vines  did  appear, 
a  lot  of  miserable  little,  brown-paper  colored  bugs  walked 
into  the  garden  and  incontinently  devoured  them,  root  and 
branch.  Owing  to  these  drawbacks,  it  was  comparatively 


OUT   OF  TOWN.  63 

late  in  the  season  before  my  melons  began  to  come  for 
ward  ;  but,  after  they  once  got  started,  they  grew  famously, 
and  were  the  talk  of  the  entire  neighborhood.  I  am  in 
clined  to  think  that  the  reputation  they  acquired  was  not 
good  for  them,  and  proved  their  ruin.  The  glory  of  those 
melons,  my  wife  told  me,  was  being  too  widely  noised  about 
the  village  for  their  safety,  and  I  now  see  the  truth  of  her 
remark. 

"  Because  you  have  a  good  thing  in  the  melon  line,"  said 
the  far-sighted  woman,  "  it  is  not  necessary,  as  you  are  no 
gardener  seeking  employment,  for  you  to  bruit  it  abroad, 
thus  placing  temptation  before,  and  offering  a  premium, 
as  it  were,  for  stealing,  to  little  ragged  boys,  who  would 
otherwise  have  gone  through  the  summer  living  innocent 
lives.  Mark  my  words,  Mr.  Gray ;  for  just  as  certain  as  I 
stand  here"  —  she  was  examining  with  me,  at  the  time, 
the  growing  melons  —  "  you  will  know  little  about  the  taste 
of  these  melons."  As  long,  however,  as  the  melons  re 
mained  severely  green,  I  gave  little  heed  to  her  words  ;  but 
when,  as  the  fruit  began  to  ripen,  and  I  saw  little  ragged 
boys  stop  at  the  garden  palings,  and,  looking  through  them, 
turn  slowly  away,  whispering  to  each  other,  I  asked  myself 
if,  after  all,  my  wife  might  not  be  correct  in  her  predic 
tions.  I  felt  certain  of  it  when,  one  day,  I  saw  a  lad  thrust 
a  long  pole,  to  which  a  fork  was  attached,  through  the 
palings,  and  stab  one  of  my  largest  watermelons. 

When  I,  cautiously  approaching  from  the  rear  that  mis 
guided  boy,  gently  seized  him,  asking  him  politely  what  he 
was  doing,  he,  although  somewhat  surprised  by  my  arrival, 
nevertheless  replied  that  he  was  n't  doing  nothing.  Speak 
ing  grammatically,  under  the  rule  that  two  negatives  de 
stroy  one  another,  the  boy  told  the  truth  ;  but  he  had  no 
intention  of  so  doing,  and  therefore  I  gave  him  no  credit 
for  not  telling  a  falsehood.  But  when  the  lad  added,  with 
a  grin  that  stretched  his  mouth  from  ear  to  ear,  that  he  'd 
heard  tell  of  my  melons,  and  kinder  guessed  he  'd  like  to 


64  OUT  OF  TOWN. 

try  one,  I  could  not  resist  telling  him  to  take  the  melon  he 
had  seized  and  be  off  with  himself  before  I  changed  my 
mind  and  set  the  dog  on  him.  The  celerity  with  which  he 
gathered  up  that  melon,  and,  with  a  victorious  shout  of 
"  hi !  hi ! ! "  made  off  down  the  road,  near  the  corner  of 
which,  lying  in  wait  for  him,  lurked  several  of  his  compan 
ions,  was  a  sight  to  be  enjoyed  by  any  one  who  did  not  own, 
as  I  do,  a  melon  patch. 

Whether  my  generosity  was  appreciated  by  those  little 
rascals,  And  they  felt  that  my  kindness  should  be  treated 
with  due  consideration,  I  cannot  tell ;  but,  at  all  events, 
several  days  elapsed  without  my  discovering  any  little  boys 
looking  over  my  garden  palings.  Small  lads,  however,  can 
not  be  forever  resisting  temptation,  and,  therefore,  I  was 
not  surprised  one  morning,  when  I  went  into  the  garden  to 
take  my  before-breakfast  walk,  to  see  the  impressions  of 
small  feet  on  the  soft  mould  of  the  melon-bed,  and  to  find 
that  several  of  the  finest  ones  had  disappeared. 

Melons,  under  most  circumstances,  when  fully  ripe,  are 
agreeable  eating ;  and,  as  stolen  fruit  is  said  to  be  the 
sweetest,  I  have  little  doubt  that  my  melons  tasted  uncom 
monly  well,  that  moonlight  night,  to  the  villains  who  sur 
reptitiously  helped  themselves  to  them.  Still  I  have 
bought  a  dog  to  assist  me  in  keeping  possession  of  my 
melons ;  for,  although  I  have  no  objection  to  little  boys 
eating  melons  at  night,  I  have  myself  a  predilection  for 
them  at  breakfast  and  after  dinner. 

The  dog  I  have  purchased  has  a  fine  reputation  for 
catching  fruit-stealers.  Indeed,  the  old  lady  of  whom  I 
bought  him  —  the  same,  in  fact,  whose  acquaintance  I 
made  in  the  cars,  and  to  whose  curiosity  I  was  indebted 
for  the  loss  of  my  black-and-tan  hen  —  gave  me  to  under 
stand  that,  from  early  puppyhood,  his  chief  diet  had  been 
the  legs  of  little  boys.  The  number  of  trousers  he  had 
torn  in  getting  at  those  legs,  she  said,  had  kept  the  princi 
pal  tailor  of  her  village  in  business  all  the  year  round,  and 


OUT   OF   TOWN.  65 

she  verily  believed  he  would  have  starved  to  death  many  a 
time  if  it  had  n't  been  for  that  dog. 

"  What  he  will  do,  kind  sir,  when  he  learns,"  she  said, 
"  that  I  've  sold  my  '  black  matan '  out  and  out,  I  don't 
know ;  but  I  should  n't  wonder  a  bit  if  he  'd  move  right 
off  to  your  village." 

"  Oh,  that  would  n't  answer  at  all,"  I  said  ;  "  we  've  a 
good  tailor  there  already,  and  I  should  prefer  to  throw 
what  business  I  could,  through  the  dog,  into  his  hands, 
than  to  have  a  perfect  stranger  reap  the  benefit  of  it,  and 
I  shall  recommend  all  the  little  boys,  whose  trousers'  legs 
the  dog  tears,  to  go  to  Cronin  for  repairs,  in  preference  to 
any  new  man." 

"  Perhaps  you  are  right,"  the  old  lady  replied ;  "  but  you 
must  n't  forget  that  our  tailor  and  my  dog  have  worked 
together  a  good  many  years,  and  naturally  may  be  pre 
sumed  to  be  attached  to  each  other,  —  especially  when  you 
take  into  consideration  the  fact  that,  in  the  winter  season, 
when  little  boys'  legs  are  not  quite  so  available  as  they  are 
in  summer  time,  old  Mr.  Pokey  always  keeps  a  lot  of  bones 
on  a  plate  ready  against  my  '  black  matan '  coming  along 
past  his  house." 

"  Certainly,"  I  replied,  "  and  I  've  no  doubt  but  that  our 
Mr.  Cronin  will  do  the  same.  But,  allow  me  to  ask,  by 
what  name  did  you  call  the  dog  just  now?" 

"  Oh  ! "  she  answered,  "  the  dog's  name  is  Gumbo  ;  but 
I  generally  speak  of  him  as  my  black  matan." 

"  Black  what  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  Why,  black  matan,"  she  replied,  —  "  same  as  you  called 
your  hen,  you  know,  —  on  account  of  his  color." 

"  Ah,  yes,  I  see  now,"  I  responded  ;  "  but,  really,  I  don't 
think  he  belongs  to  that  breed  of  dogs.  It  strikes  me  that 
he  is  a  mongrel,  and  might,  with  truthfulness,  be  termed  a 
'  yaller  cur.'  " 

The  old  lady  deprecated  any  such  appellation,  and  half 
refused  to  sell  him  to  me  unless  I  would  let  him  remain  a 
5 


66  OUT  OF   TOWN. 

"black  matan."  When  at  last,  however,  I  had  paid  the 
money  for  him,  and  was  going  away,  she  was  more  than 
ever  inclined  to  break  the  bargain  ;  for,  as  she  very  justly 
remarked,  "  the  poor  boys  will  miss  him  dreadfully,  and 
I  'in  much  afraid  that  Mr.  Pokey  will  never  forgive  me  for 
selling  him.  But  Providence,  kind  sir,"  she  continued, 
after  a  pause,  during  which  she  wiped  her  eyes  with  the 
corner  of  her  black  bombazine  apron,  which  must  have  been 
pretty  rough  on  her  eyelids,  "  does  not  always  permit  us  to 
have  our  own  ways  in  this  wicked  world  ;  but  sometimes,  I 
must  confess,  controls  our  actions  in  a  most  incomprehen 
sible  manner.  I  don't  think,  kind  sir,  that  I  ever  should 
have  married,  but  for  an  overruling  Providence,  my  poor 
husband,  —  now  dead  these  twenty-five  years  come  the 
sixth  of  October  next,  —  and  it  was  a  very  rainy  day  when 
he  died,  and  gloomy  enough  ;  but  fortunately  we  had  a  fine 
day  for  the  funeral,  and,  though  cold,  it  was  clear,  and 
there  were  a  great  many  persons  present.  Did  you  ever 
have  a  funeral,  kind  sir  ?  "  she  asked. 

I  said  I  never  had,  and  I  hoped  it  would  be  many  years 
before  that  sad  event,  so  far  as  I  was  personally  concerned, 
took  place. 

"  I  mean,  kind  sir,"  she  said,  "  a  funeral  in  your  own  fam 
ily.  Of  course,  I  know  that  you  have  not  been  funeraled 
yet." 

I  assured  the  old  lady  that  Providence  had  dealt  very 
tenderly  with  me  and  mine,  and  that  the  heavy  folds  of  the 
pall  had  never  swayed  in  sunlight  or  starlight  within  my 
dwelling,  and  I  trusted  that  it  would  be  a  long  time  before 
such  sorrow  were  mine. 

Thereupon  the  old  lady  said,  very  pathetically,  "  Amen  ; " 
and  then  I  bade  her  farewell,  and  went  home. 

"  What,  in  the  world  of  wonder,  Mr.  Gray,"  asked  my 
wife,  as  I  entered  the  house,  have  you  brought  home 
such  a  looking  dog  as  that  for  ?  Why,  it  is  uglier  than 
your  savage  literary  friend's." 


OUT  OF  TOWN.  67 

"Well,  my  dear,  what  if  it  be?"  I  replied.  "The 
dog  is  a  good  dog  for  the  purpose  I  desire,  and  I  don't 
think  you  ought  to  object  to  him  because  he  is  n't  quite 
an  Apollo  in  appearance.  He  knows  a  trick  or  two,  and 
can  balance  himself  on  his  tail  in  a  surprising  manner, 
and  stand  on  his  head  with  his  tail  in  the  air  equal  to 
the  famous  dog  which  old  Mother  Hubbard  possessed. 
Besides,  he  's  great  on  rats,  and  cats,  and  little  boys'  legs." 

"Great  on  little  boys'  legs!"  exclaimed  my  wife,  in 
astonishment,  putting  up  both  hands;  "why,  what  do 
you  mean  ?  " 

"  Mean ! "  I  replied ;  "  why,  that  I  don't  mean  to  lose 
any  more  melons.  Do  you  think  that  I  intend  to  be 
robbed  of  my  melons  without  getting  something  back 
in  return  ?  " 

"And  what  do  you  expect  to   get  back?"  she   asked. 

"  Oh,  pieces  of  trousers,"  I  answered,  "  and,  perhaps, 
pieces  of  legs." 

"  Horrible  !  "  she  cried ;  "  how  can  you  speak  so 
cruelly  ?  " 

"  Cruelly,  is  it  ?  "  I  asked ;  "  wait  a  moment.  There, 
do  you  see  that  little  rascal  yonder?"  pointing  through 
the  open  window  to  a  crouching  figure  that  was  creeping, 
in  the  twilight,  along  a  line  of  currant-bushes,  leading  to 
the  melon-bed  ;  "  look,  now,  Gumbo  !  legs  !  " 

The  dog  went  through  the  open  window  like  a  shot, 
and  the  next  moment  there  was  a  terrific  fight  going  on 
between  my  savage  literary  friend's  dog  Jack,  which  I 
had  mistaken  for  a  robber  of  melons,  sneaking  along 
toward  them,  and  my  own  Gumbo.  Before  those  dogs 
could  be  separated  they  had  smashed  all  the  glasses  in 
one  of  my  forcing-beds,  knocked  down  the  frames  up 
holding  my  tomatoes,  destroyed  my  wife's  choicest  car 
nations  and  dahlias,  and  caused  me  to  break  the  handles 
of  two  hoes  and  a  pitchfork.  The  conflict  lasted  fullj 
twenty  minutes,  and  the  injuries  which  both  dogs  suffered 


68  OUT  OF   TOWN- 

can  never  be  repaired.  Jack  had  his  tail  bitten  off  quite 
short,  and  the  ears  of  Gumbo  were  chewed  into  ribbons. 
If  dogs  could  use  crutches,  these  two  belligerents  would 
each  be  halting  around  upon  two  pairs  apiece ;  but,  as 
it  is,  they  are  compelled  to  lie  quietly  curled  up  in  sep 
arate  corners  in  the  barn,  eying  each  other  vindictively, 
until  their  many  wounds  are  healed. 

In  the  mean  while  the  naughty  boys  of  the  village  run 
rampant,  at  night,  through  the  melon-beds  of  my  friend 
and  myself,  and,  in  the  daytime,  fearfully  excite  the  two 
dogs  by  throwing  stones  at  the  hospital  wherein  they  are 
confined. 


OUT  OF   TOWN.  69 


CHAPTER    XII. 

Goat  rs.  Cow  Milk.  —  My  Old  Lady.  —  How  to  secure  a  Goat.  —  Mr. 
I'okey  again.  —  Gumbo.  —  Buts.  —  Going  a-Goating. —  Taking  pos 
session  of  the  Goat.  —  The  Start  Homeward.  —Down  in  the  Dust. — A 
Round  Turn.— A  Turnip-field.  —  Here  and  There.  —  A  Happy  Thought. 
Not  Quick  enough.  —  Losses.  — A  Rope.  —  Caught.  —  Home  at  last. 

HAVE  bought  a  goat.  Next  to  owning  a  cow,  a 
goat,  especially  if  there  be  a  youthful  scion  of 
your  house  who  delights  in  fresh  milk,  is  a  de 
sirable  investment.  Cows,  beside  being  much  more  ex 
pensive,  require  greater  care,  and  are  more  troublesome 
to  keep  than  goats.  Goat's  milk,  too,  is  richer  and  more 
nourishing  than  that  of  cows.  At  least  the  old  lady  —  the 
same  one  of  whom  I  procured  the  "  black  matan  "  dog  — 
so  assured  me  when  she  sold  me  the  goat  which  now  eats 
off  my  turnip-tops.  She  further  said  that  I  would  not  re 
quire  a  barn  in  which  to  keep  it,  as  I  would  if  I  were  to 
get  a  cow. 

"  All  you  need  do,  kind  sir,"  she  said,  "  will  be  to  put 
a  box  in  one  corner  of  your  garden,  and  throw  a  little 
hay  into  it,  and  then  you  have  your  goatery  ready  for  its 
occupant.  And  as  for  feed,  why,  a  smart  goat  will  feed 
itself,  and  this  goat  is  one  of  that  kind.  Where  she  can't 
find  grazing  there  ain't  none,  kind  sir,  worth  speaking  of." 

Even  during  the  short  time  I  have  owned  that  goat  I 
have  discovered  that  she  can  more  than  feed  herself. 
Such  slight  guardians  to  cabbage  and  carrot  fields  as 
fences  and  stone  walls,  offer  no  impediment  to  the  en 
trance  of  my  goat.  Simply  tying  two  of  her  legs  to 
gether  is  of  little  use  in  preventing  her  from  making  any 
field,  to  which  she  may  take  a  fancy,  her  foraging-ground. 


70  OUT  OF  TOWN. 

The  only  way  to  prevent  her  from  poaching  on  my  neigh 
bors  is  by  tying  all  four  of  her  legs  together,  and  then 
tethering  her  to  a  stake  driven  into  the  ground.  Even 
then,  unless  the  knots  are  securely  tied,  she  will  slip  the 
rope,  and  make  off  for  the  nearest  garden  fence.  On 
these  occasions  I  find  that  the  dog  Gumbo,  who  has  nearly 
recovered  from  his  wounds,  is  of  great  assistance  in  bring 
ing  back  the  runaway  ;  indeed,  the  old  lady,  when  she 
sold  me  the  goat,  more  than  hinted  that  she  was  obliged 
to  part  with  her  for  the  reason  that  she  no  longer  had 
the  "  black  matan  "  to  keep  watch  over  her. 

I  may  as  well  here  record  the  fact  that,  when  the  tailor, 
old  Mr.  Pokey,  —  who  mainly  depended  upon  Gumbo's 
efforts  in  the  trouser-tearing  line  for,  so  to  speak,  his 
bread  and  butter,  —  learned  that  he  had  been  sold  and 
emigrated  from  the  village,  he  gnashed  his  teeth  fear 
fully,  and,  sharpening  his  longest  shears,  vowed  terrible 
vengeance  against  the  old  lady  for  parting  with  him.  He 
so  frightened  her  that  she  drove  over  to  see  me  one  day, 
and  tried  to  buy  him  back ;  but  when  she  saw  the  fright 
ful  condition  in  which  he  was,  arising  from  his  fight  with 
Jack,  she  declined  to  risk  the  purchase,  and  left  him  to 
die,  as  she  said,  on  my  hands.  It  has  since  come  to  my 
ears  that  old  Pokey  failed  in  business  the  week  afterwards. 
During  this  interview  with  my  old  lady  I  discovered  the 
old  lady  had  a  goat  for  sale,  and,  on  my  making  an  offer 
for  it,  which  was  promptly  accepted,  I  became  the  owner. 

Now  it  is  one  thing,  as  I  found,  to  buy  a  goat,  and  quite 
another  to  get  it  home.  When,  therefore,  one  breezy  af 
ternoon  I  said  to  Mrs.  Gray  that  I  thought  it  would  be  a 
good  plan  for  me  to  take  our  eldest  boy  and  walk  over  to 
the  Corners  for  the  goat  I  bought,  and  drive  her  home,  she 
replied  that  she  thought  it  would  be,  and  added,  moreover, 
in  a  slightly  sarcastic  tone,  "  that  she  hoped  I  'd  have  a 
nice  time  of  it,  but "  — 

"  But  me  no  buts,  my  dear,"  I  interrupted ;  "  we  will 
leave  that,"  I  said,  laughingly,  "  to  the  goat." 


OUT  OF   TOWN.  71 

"  We  will  leave  it  to  the  goat,"  she  answered,  "  as  you 
will  probably  find." 

I  paid  no  attention,  however,  to  her  remarks,  and,  call 
ing  my  little  boy  to  accompany  me,  walked  off  toward  the 
Corners.  It  is  only  about  three  miles  distant,  and  the  road 
is  a  pleasant  one,  winding  for  the  greater  part  of  the  way 
through  woods  of  hickory,  chestnut,  and  butternuts.  At 
times  the  path  leads  along  the  banks  of  the  river  Bronx, 
and  the  rippling  of  the  water  over  its  rocky  bed  falls  in 
pleasing  murmurs  upon  the  ear.  "  Autumn,"  I  said  to  my 
self,  as  I  walked  along,  "  is  the  best  season  of  the  year  to 
dwell  in  the  country,  for  then  it  is  in  its  glory.  The  air  is 
pure  and  invigorating,  and  the  temperature  cool  and  de 
lightful.  Nature  allures  her  lovers  to  follow  winding 
streams,  to  clamber  rocky  mountains,  to  wander  through 
shadowy  forests,  where  the  leaves  strew  the  ground  and 
rustle  beneath  their  steps,  and  from  her  outspreading  arms 
drops  down  upon  them  the  harvests  of  the  year.  Already 
the  harvest  is  being  gathered.  The  reapers  are  busy  in 
the  fields.  I  hear  the  whetting  of  the  scythes  and  the 
creaking  of  the  loaded  wains  as  they  bear  the  golden 
sheaves  to  the  granaries.  The  apples  —  red,  russet,  and 
yellow  —  are  ripening  in  the  orchards.  The  corn  is  turn 
ing  into  gold,  and  the  pumpkins,  seen  through  the  green 
stalks  of  the  maize,  which  still  wave  triumphantly  through 
many  fields,  lie  basking  in  the  sunshine.  The  grapes  are 
growing  purple  on  their  vines,  and  all  the  products  of  the 
earth,  having  produced  each  after  its  kind,  are  waiting  to 
be  garnered.  At  this  season  it  is  a  luxury  to  be  out-of- 
doors  ;  and  whether  it  be  early  in  the  morning  while  the 
dew  still  jewels  the  grass,  at  noontide  when  the  sun  shines 
warmly,  or  at  twilight  when  the  stars  begin  to  glimmer, 
the  open  fields,  the  mazy  orchards,  and  the  silent  woods 
possess  charms  for  the  thoughtful  and  observant  mind. 
Nature  is  wonderfully  suggestive  at  this  season,  and  many 
are  the  lessons  she  teaches  to  humanity."  I  must  have 


72  OUT  OF  TOWN. 

spoken  a  part  of  this  aloud,  for  my  little  boy  asked, 
"  Where  are  the  apples  and  the  grapes  ?  "  He  did  not  see 
them.  However,  he  took  much  pleasure  in  picking  up  the 
early  fallen  nuts  scattered  under  the  trees,  and  in  gather 
ing  bunches  of  autumnal  flowers  which  bordered  the 
roadside.  When  we  reached  the  old  lady's,  he  exchanged 
these  yellow,  purple,  and  scarlet  flowers  for  a  huge  slice  of 
pound-cake  and  a  glass  of  new  milk.  After  fortifying  my 
self  with  something  more  substantial,  I  prepared  to  return 
home.  The  goat,  which  is  a  large  white  one,  with  curving 
horns  and  a  brisk  little  bit  of  a  tail,  was  brought  out,  and 
a  rope  about  six  feet  long  being  tied  to  her  horns,  I,  taking 
the  other  end  of  it,  set  off  for  Woodbine  Cottage.  The 
old  lady  cast  an  old  shoe  after  us  for  good  luck ;  but,  as  it 
struck  the  goat,  it  was  the  cause  of  frightening  her,  and 
made  her  start  on  a  run.  As  this  action  was  totally  unex 
pected  to  me,  the  rope  was  drawn  out  of  my  hands,  and  to 
regain  it  required  unusual  activity  on  my  part,  and  a  nice 
little  race  ensued,  which  attracted  the  attention  of  the 
lookers-on,  and  resulted,  after  a  five  minutes'  run,  in  vic 
tory  to  my  side.  The  goat,  on  finding  herself  hauled  up, 
with  an  alacrity  which  was  surprising,  turned  and  made 
a  rush  at  me,  butting  me  with  her  head  and  taking  me  off 
my  feet  in  a  twinkling,  and  going  herself  over  my  prostrate 
body  in  a  way  which  spoke  well  for  her  agility.  Before  the 
rope  tightened  in  my  hands  I  was  on  my  feet,  and  brought 
her  up  again  with  a  round  turn.  This  time,  however,  when 
the  goat  made  a  dash  at  me  I  was  prepared,  and  by  step 
ping  quickly  aside  I  let  her  go  by  without  encountering 
any  harm.  This  seemed  somewhat  to  astonish  her  lady 
ship,  and  apparently  had  a  good  effect ;  for  on  the  instant 
she  became  perfectly  docile,  and  moved  along  for  five  min 
utes  in  a  quiet  and  orderly  manner. 

While  I  was  congratulating  myself,  however,  upon  her 
good  behavior,  and  counting  in  my  mind  the  number  of 
quarts  of  milk  our  babe  would  have  per  day,  the  goat 


OUT  OF   TOWN.  73 

made  a  dash  for  a  field  of  turnips  we  were  passing,  and 
with  a  sudden  spring,  which  jerked  the  rope  out  of  my 
hand,  went  over  the  fence  like  a  flash. 

I  walked  quietly  to  the  fence  and  looked  over  it.  The 
goat  was  standing  a  few  feet  distant,  gently  cropping  the 
tender  shoots  of  the  turnips  as  if  she  enjoyed  them.  I 
remained  for  several  minutes  calmly  watching  her,  and 
once  in  a  while  she  would  raise  her  head,  shake  it  defiantly 
at  me,  whisk  her  stump  of  a  tail  derisively,  and  utter  a 
little  bleat,  which  seemed  plainly  to  say,  "  Catch  me  if  you 
can." 

1  seated  my  little  boy  on  the  top  rail  of  the  fence,  and 
then  got  over  into  the  field,  and,  as  if  I  were  myself  seek 
ing  for  tender  turnip-tops,  cautiously  approached  my  lady, 
who  would  let  me  get  within  a  few  paces  of  her,  when  with 
a  spring  she  would  carry  herself  far  out  of  my  reach. 
This  little  manoeuvre  was  performed  several  times,  until  I 
began  to  lose  the  small  stock  of  patience  of  which  I  was 
possessed,  and  to  ask  myself  how  it  was  going  to  end.  I 
tried  to  drive  her  into  a  corner  of  the  fence,  but  she  was 
too  knowing  for  that,  and  on  such  occasions  would  make  a 
long  run,  and  only  stand  still  when  she  reached  the  oppo 
site  side  of  the  field. 

At  last  a  happy  thought  occurred  to  me.  I  pulled  a  tur 
nip  and  held  its  white  root  temptingly  before  her.  She 
looked  at  it  a  moment,  sniffed  at  it,  and  began  to  curvet 
and  prance  upon  her  hind  legs  in  a  most  graceful  and 
pretty  manner,  and  at  the  same  time,  too,  approaching 
nearer  and  nearer,  but  never  for  a  moment  getting  close 
enough  for  me  to  catch  her.  She  evidently  desired  the 
turnip,  but  was  rather  suspicious  of  me.  Finally,  I  de 
cided  to  let  my  little  boy  try  his  powers  of  persuasion ; 
and  calling  him  to  me,  put  a  turnip  into  his  hands  and  di 
rected  him  to  try  to  get  the  goat  to  take  it,  while  I  would 
seize  upon  the  rope.  The  ruse  would  have  been  successful 
but  for  one  circumstance,  —  I  was  not  quite  quick  enough. 


74  OUT  OF   TOWN. 

The  moment  the  goat  saw  the  little  boy  holding  the  turnip 
out  to  her,  she  rushed  for  it,  knocked  the  lad  down,  seized 
it,  and  was  off  before  I  could  grasp  the  rope  which  trailed 
behind  her. 

I  have  lost  a  good  many  things  in  this  life  by  not  being 
quick  enough.  I  have  lost  sweethearts,  money,  the  cars, 
the  boats,  and  numerous  dinners  ;  but  I  don't  remember 
that  the  losing  of  any  one  of  them  ever  made  me  so  angry 
as  did  the  loss  of  that  rope.  I  know  there  have  been  men 
who  would  gladly  have  missed  a  rope  ;  but  for  these  per 
sons  I  never  had  any  sympathy.  Such  men  have  an  antip 
athy  to  rope-walks,  and  would  go  a  mile  out  of  their  way 
rather  than  walk  through  one.  They  cannot  hear,  either, 
the  word  noose  without  experiencing  a  peculiar  tickling 
about  the  throat.  But,  thank  Heaven,  I  am  no  such  indi 
vidual.  Therefore  it  was,  when  I  picked  up  my  little  boy, 
who  was  more  frightened  than  hurt,  from  the  midst  of  the 
growing  turnips,  that  I  spoke  of  the  goat  to  myself  in  no 
Christian  terms,  and  promised  her  a  good  beating  when  I 
should  get  hold  of  the  rope  again. 

One  can't,  though,  if  he  applies  himself  diligently  to  se 
curing  it,  be  forever- losing  the  end  of  a  rope.  Nor  is  man 
to  be  foiled  by  a  goat.  lie  must  win  in  the  long  run  ;  and 
though  it  was  a  long  run  in  this  instance,  and  wilted  my 
collar,  and  will  probably  result  in  bringing  something  else 
besides  chickens  home  to  roost  in  the  future,  yet  on  the 
third  trial  with  the  tempting  turnip,  my  little  boy,  pro 
tected  by  a  breastwork  of  rail-fence  from  the  goat's  attack, 
and  the  latter  being  out-generalled  and  coaxed  into  a  cor 
ner,  I  obtained  possession  of  the  coveted  rope,  and  conse 
quently  of  the  vivacious  goat. 

To  get  that  goat  out  of  the  turnip-field  and  into  the  road 
again,  was  the  work  of  but  a  few  minutes ;  and  for  the 
next  mile  she  travelled  along  at  something  more  than  a 
two-forty  gait.  Perhaps  the  bunch  of  flexible  branches  — 
birch  and  elm  —  which  I  carried  in  one  hand,  and  applied 


OUT  OF  TOWN.  75 

without  remorse  to  her  flank  and  rear,  had  something  to 
do  with  the  celerity  of  her  movement. 

At  the  end  of  that  mile  we  had  a  little  set-to.  The  goat 
put  her  forefeet  firmly  down  in  the  green  sod,  and  refused 
to  advance  another  inch.  Beating  her  did  no  good,  but 
seemed  rather  to  confirm  her  in  a  desire  which  she  appar 
ently  had  of  staying  where  she  was  all  night.  Fortunately, 
though,  my  little  boy,  who  had  been  left  far  in  the  rear  by 
our  swiftness  of  movement,  came  up,  still  bearing  a  cov 
eted  turnip  in  his  hand,  and  with  it  managed  to  coax  the 
goat  into  a  forward  movement.  That  movement  never 
stopped  until  we  reached  Woodbine  Cottage,  and  I  had 
housed  my  goat  in  the  goatery,  which  the  old  lady  had  sug 
gested  as  an  appropriate  abiding-place. 

"What  trouble  that  goat  has  given  me  since  she  came  into 
my  possession  I  have  hinted  at  in  the  beginning  of  this 
sketch  ;  but  the  half  is  not  yet  told.  The  babe,  though,  is 
flourishing  like  a  green  bay-tree  under  his  new  diet,  and 
growing  stout  and  hearty. 


76  OUT  OF  TOWN. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

A  lost  Goat.  —  Red  Cabbages;  their  Cultivation. — A  Challenge;  its  Ac 
ceptance. —  Milking-time.  —  My  savage  Literary  Friend. —  A  horrible 
Suggestion;  its  Non-fullilment. — The  Pound  ;  its  Uses;  its  neglected 
State.  —  In  and  Out.  —  Remorse.  —  Self-inflicted  Punishment.  —  Two 
Days  and  a  Night.  —  Plans  for  liberating  the  Goat.  —  A  Fool's  Propo 
sition  ;  its  remarkable  Success.  —  The  Goat  at  Home  again. 

goat  has  been  in  the  pound.     It  happened  in 
this  way :  One  night  she  got  into  my  savage  liter 
ary  friend's  plantation,  and  ate  up  all  his  red  cab 
bages.     If  there  were  one  tiling  more  than  another  which 

o  o 

my  friend  experienced  satisfaction  in  seeing  grow,  it  was 
his  red  cabbages.  When  he  set  out  these  plants,  a  couple 
of  months  ago,  he  expatiated  at  length  to  me  on  the  supe 
riority,  over  all  others,  of  red  cabbages  for  the  purpose  of 
pickling.  During  the  dry  weather  he  watered  the  plants 
morning  and  night.  He  poked  a  good  deal  about  their 
roots,  loosening  the  earth,  and  supplying  them  to  a  certain 
extent  with  guano.  When  they  began  to  "  head  up  "  he 
was  much  delighted,  and  used  to  take  his  friends  who 
called  on  him  out  into  the  garden  to  see  them.  I  must 
say  they  grew  famously,  and  promised  to  become  the  prize 
red  cabbages  of  the  county.  It  happened  one  day  that 
he  incautiously  spoke  to  me  before  the  goat  —  who  was 
being  milked  at  the  time  —  of  the  wonderful  progress 
those  cabbages  were  making  in  their  growth.  I  noticed 
that  the  goat  pricked  up  her  ears  at  the  word  red  cabbage, 
as  if  she  understood  what  was  being  said,  and  I  observed 
to  my  friend  he  had  better  look  out  for  his  cabbage  patch, 
as  my  goat  would  probably  pay  it  a  visit.  He  laughed  de 
risively,  and  said  that  I  gave  too  much  credit  to  my  goat 


OUT   OF  TOWN.  77 

for  understanding ;  besides,  his  fences  were  goat-proof,  and 
he  defied  any  goat  to  scale  them. 

Thereupon  the  goat  shook  her  horns  defiantly,  wagged 
her  brief  tail,  and  kicked  over  the  milk-pail.  This  was  at 
dewy  eve ;  the  next  morning  my  friend's  red  cabbages 
were  gone,  and  the  footprints  in  the  garden  mould  showed 
that  my  goat  was  the  offender.  There  was  much  other 
food  for  my  goat  in  that  garden  besides  those  cabbages : 
there  were  white  cabbages,  and  corn,  and  beets,  and  car 
rots,  and  all  the  appetizing  viands  in  which  goats  delight ; 
but  she  had  been  challenged,  as  it  were,  to  attack  those 
cabbages,  and  she  did  it.  A  dozen  heads  of  red  cabbages 
seem  to  me  more  than  a  meal  for  one  goat ;  but  she  was 
equal  to  the  emergency,  and,  though  the  eating  of  them 
must  have  occupied  her  the  whole  night,  she  succeeded  in 
stowing  them  all  away  before  sunrise. 

When  milking-time  came  that  morning,  the  goat  was 
not  to  be  found.  Search  was  made  for  her  throughout  the 
length  and  breadth  of  the  neighborhood,  without  success. 
My  youngest  began  to  experience  the  pangs  of  hunger,  and 
cried  aloud  in  the  bitterness  of  his  grief.  But  it  was  of  no 
avail ;  the  goat  was  not  forthcoming,  and  the  boy  was  in 
danger  of  starvation.  Before  this  result,  however,  came 
to  pass,  it  fortunately  occurred  to  Mrs.  G.  that  cow's  milk 
could  be  given  to  him  with  a  view  of  satisfying  his  desires 
until  the  goat  came  home.  As  he  took  kindly  to  it,  I  don't 
think  he  knew  the  difference. 

Just  after  breakfast,  my  savage  literary  friend  made  his 
appearance,  with  a  countenance  expressive  more  of  sorrow 
than  of  anger,  and  told  us  of  the  loss  he  had  suffered. 
He  would  like,  he  said,  if  I  had  no  objection,  to  take  a 
view  of  that  goat,  and  see  how  she  looked.  He  did  n't 
wish  her  any  especial  harm,  but  still  it  would  be  a  satisfac 
tion  to  him  if  those  twelve  red  cabbages  should  disagree 
with  her.  Pie  would  like,  too,  to  see  how  she  managed  to 
carry  them  about.  When  I  told  him  that  she  could  not 


78  OUT  OF   TOWN. 

be  found,  he  seemed  to  be  quite  pleased,  and  chuckled 
with  much  satisfaction.  He  would  not  be  surprised,  he 
said,  if  she  had  burst  herself.  Such  fatalities  did  some 
times  happen,  and  he  had  read  of  an  ox  that  was  killed 
that  way  through  getting  into  a  clover-field. 

This  idea  was  so  horrible  that  it  quite  shocked  us,  and 
the  baby,  as  if  he  understood  it,  cried  most  lustily.  Deem 
ing  that  this  might  be  the  case,  I  went  up  to  my  friend's 
plantation  to  see  if  the  remains  of  my  goat  could  be  found. 
On  my  way  there  I  pictured  to  myself  the  fearful  scene 
which  would  await  my  sight.  I  seemed  to  see  a  pair 
of  horns  lying  loosely,  with  a  wreath  of  red  cabbage 
around  them  ;  the  short  and  familiar  tail,  with  more  red 
cabbage  about  it ;  four  little  hoofs  embalmed  in  more  red 
cabbage  ;  besides  much  hair,  mixed  with  much  red  cab 
bage,  scattered  all  about  the  grounds.  But  no  such  sight 
appalled  me.  I  only  saw  the  standing  stalks  of  the  cab 
bages,  a  few  scattered  leaves,  and  the  marks  of  cloven  feet 
in  the  earth.  All  that  day  and  the  following  the  search 
for  the  goat  was  prosecuted  unavailingly,  and  it  was  not 
until  nearly  night  of  the  second  day  that  my  eldest  boy 
brought  the  news  that  our  goat  was  in  the  pound. 

The  pound  is  essentially  a  village  institution,  and  is  to 
vagrant  animals  what  the  jail  is  to  vagrant  men.  As  I 
had  endeavored,  when  I  first  came  to  Woodbine  Cottage, 
to  get  a  cow,  which  had  greatly  annoyed  me,  placed  in  the 
pound,  without  accomplishing  it,  and  had  learned,  much  to 
my  disapprobation,  that,  although  the  village  could  boast 
of  a  pound,  there  yet  was  no  pound-master,  and  conse 
quently  the  pound  was  never  used,  I  was  on  this  occasion 
quite  surprised,  therefore,  to  learn  that  my  goat  was  a 
prisoner.  Nor  was  my  surprise  in  any  degree  lessened 
when,  on  going  to  the  pound,  I  discovered  the  secure 
character  of  the  place.  A  high  board-fence  surrounded 
the  enclosure,  and  an  equally  high  gate,  padlocked  and 
nailed  up,  should,  but  did  not,  give  entrance  to  it.  It  was 


OUT  OF   TOWN.  79 

evident  to  me  that  that  gate  had  not  been  opened  for  years. 
The  oldest  inhabitant  could  scarcely  recall  the  time,  and 
the  question  as  to  how  the  goat  got  into  the  pound  must 
ever  remain  unsolved.  The  probability  is,  however,  that 
immediately  after  partaking  of  my  friend's  red  cabbages, 
she  was  attacked  with  qualms  of  conscience ;  and,  know 
ing  that  she  deserved  to  be  put  into  the  pound  for  her 
wickedness,  voluntarily  went  thither,  and,  scaling  the  fence, 
became  a  penitent  and  remorse-eaten  goat.  In  the  early 
dawn,  with  the  morning-star  only  as  a  witness,  must  she 
have  accomplished  this  feat,  which,  in  the  annals  of  the 
village,  has  never  been  rivalled. 

For  two  days  and  a  night  that  poor  goat  had  patiently 
suffered,  and,  we  trust,  atoned  for  her  naughtiness.  Goat 
nature,  no  more  than  human  nature,  however,  can  recon 
cile  itself  to  too  prolonged  a  punishment,  especially  where 
it  is  self-inflicted ;  and  when,  therefore,  the  close  of  the 
second  day  drew  nigh,  and  food  within  the  enclosure  grew 
scarce,  it  is  no  more  than  might  have  been  expected  that 
the  goat  should  desire  a  change  of  scene.  Although  she 
was  able  to  get  in,  it  is  very  evident  that  she  was  not  able 
to  get  out,  or  else  she  would  have  accomplished  it.  She 
could  only  call  for  assistance  ;  and,  as  her  bleat  is  a  pecu 
liar  one,  it  was  early  recognized  by  a  passer-by,  who  in 
formed  my  little  boy  of  the  lost  goat's  whereabouts. 

Quite  a  crowd  was  gathered  about  the  pound  when  I 
arrived  there,  and  the  question  as  to  how  the  goat  got  in 
had  not  only  been  duly  discussed,  but  the  next  important 
question  as  to  how  she  could  be  got  out  was  under  consid 
eration.  The  key  of  the  padlock  was  lost,  ;mcl  to  open  the 
gate  was  impossible.  Through  the  various  knot  holes  and 
crevices  in  the  fence  the  goat  could  be  seen  marching  dis 
consolately  around  the  pound,  seeking  vainly  for  a  point  of 
egress.  She  had  worn  a  dusty  little  pathway  for  herself, 
close  beside  the  fence,  and,  as  she  kept  following  it,  would 


80  OUT  OF  TOWN. 

stop  ever  and  anon,  like  the  novelist's  solitary  horseman,  to 
look  about  her. 

Several  methods  were  discussed  for  getting  her  out. 
One  being  to  throw  a  rope  over  the  fence,  and  allow  her  to 
twist  her  horns  into  it,  and  then  she  could  be  drawn  out. 
Before  any  mode  was  decided  upon,  however,  the  fool  of 
the  village  came  along,  and  suggested  the  plan  of  knock 
ing  a  board  off  of  the  fence,  and  thus  letting  the  goat  out. 
This  was  immediately  adopted  by  the  assemblage,  and 
with  such  unanimity  of  procedure  that  no  less  than  twenty 
boards  were  knocked  off  in  a  brief  time,  and  an  opening 
sufficiently  large  to  have  driven  an  elephant  through  was 
effected,  though  the  goat,  with  that  swiftness  and  strength 
which  is  inherent  to  her,  made  a  rush  when  the  first  board 
flew,  and  knocking  down  and  going  over  the  luckless  wight 
who  had  so  kindly  opened  the  way  for  her,  made  a  straight 
line  for  Woodbine  Cottage,  which  she  reached  in  safety, 
much  to  the  delight  of  the  little  ones  assembled  there  to 
welcome  her. 


OUT  OF   TOWN.  81 


CHAPTER   XIV. 

Reminiscent.  —  "A  Vanished  Love."  —  Wedding-bells.  —  "  To  my  Wife." 
Blackberrying.  —  An  Explorer.  —  Mountain  Streams  and  Rocky  Pools. 
School-days. 

is  something  —  not  much,  perhaps,  but  still 
something  —  to  sit  alone  for  an  hour  or  more  in 
the  early  morning  within  the  shade  of  an  old 
apple-tree,  such  as  grows  in  the  orchard  adjoining  Wood 
bine  Cottage,  and  hear  the  breeze  murmuring  through 
the  leaves  above  your  head,  and  watch  the  idle  play  of  the 
shadows  on  the  turf  at  your  feet.  A  feeling  of  unutterable 
peace  is  engendered  in  your  breast,  and  a  dreamy  indo 
lence  takes  possession  of  your  mind.  You  dream  dreams 
and  see  visions.  You  recall  the  past  with  soft  regret  and 
look  with  hopeful  eyes  into  the  future.  If  you  have  passed 
the  meridian  of  life,  the  past  with  its  changes  will  be  suffi 
cient  to  occupy  your  thoughts  without  the  necessity  of 
seeking  to  peer  into  the  future.  Your  dead  and  buried 
loves  of  long  ago  will,  very  properly,  at  such  moments,  ask 
for  a  place  in  your  memory.  You  will  be  apt  to  recall  the 
time  when  to  some  vanished  Madge  or  Kate  you  made  love 
on  the  mountain-tops,  or  at  the  sea-shore,  or  down  in  the 
valley,  and  wrote  such  verses  as  these :  — 

A   VANISHED   LOVE. 

HE  loved  her,  and  his  eyes  revealed 
The  passion  that  his  tongue  concealed : 
He  lived  a  sweet  and  charmed  life, 
And  dreamed  she  was  his  darling  wife. 

With  him  't  was  spring  the  whole  year  through ; 
For  him  alone  the  violets  grew, 
6 


82  OUT  OF   TOWN. 

And  blossomed  in  the  sylvan  shade, 
That  he  might  crown  his  rustic  maid. 

Alas !  his  dreaming  came  to  naught ; 
His  love  with  grief  and  tears  was  fraught ; 
And  she  —  the  blessed  one!  —  is  dead, 
And  violets  bloom  above  her  head. 

If  you  are  blessed  with  a  wife,  though,  the  present  is 
probably  the  all-in-all  to  you.  You  feel  that  your  lines 
have  indeed  fallen  in  pleasant  places,  and  you  are  con 
tented  with  the  position  in  which  it  hath  pleased  Heaven 
to  place  you.  If  your  memory  glides  back  into  the  past  at 
all,  it  is  only  to  recall  the  days  of  your  courtship,  when 
time  moved  on  jewelled  wings,  and  brought  at  last  the 
hour  when  the  merry  music  of  your  wedding-bells  filled 
your  ears.  Since  then,  with  her  beside  you,  the  years  have 
rolled  calmly  and  silently  along,  so  that  you  scarcely  noted 
their  passage,  or  perceived  the  marks  which  age  was  leav 
ing  on  your  brow  and  scattering  in  threads  of  silver  amidst 
her  hair.  Most  grateful  should  you  be  if  this  be  the  case, 
and  the  present  with  its  joys  and  blessings  prove  wealthier 
than  the  vanished  past. 

Feeling  thus,  it  will  not  be  strange  if,  as  I  did,  you  indite 
some  lines  to  your  wife,  on  her  approaching  birthday,  simi 
lar  to  these : — 

My  darling  wife,  once  more  I  bring 

A  birthday  tribute  unto  thee  ; 
Once  more,  with  words  of  praise,  I  sing 

Of  all  that  thou  hast  been  to  me, 
Since  first,  whilst  standing  at  thy  side, 

That  day  of  all  the  year  most  blest, 
I  held  thy  hand  in  mine,  my  bride, 

And  clasped  thee  closely  to  my  breast. 

Since  that  sweet  time  we  two  have  walked 

Together  down  the  sloping  years, 
And  gayly  laughed,  and  gayly  talked, 

Despite  life's  growing  cares  and  fears ; 


OUT   OF   TOWN.  83 

When  petty  troubles  filled  my  heart, 
And  shadows  hovered  round  my  way, 

Thy  smile  could  make  them  all  depart, 
And  change  December  into  May. 

I  know  full  well  that  thorns  have  sprung 

Within  the  path  I  've  led  thee  through  ; 
That  thy  fond  bosom  has  been  wrung 

By  acts  I  now  would  fain  undo ; 
But  underneath  the  foolish  deed, 

And  careless  words  oft  breathed  by  me, 
Thy  gentle  spirit  still  couldst  read 

The  story  of  my  love  for  thee. 

Though  them  hast  passed  life's  matin  hours, 

And  reached  the  summer's  golden  time, 
Know  that  the  season's  later  flowers 

Arc  rich  as  those  of  April's  prime; 
That  thou  to  me  art  still  as  fair 

As  on  the  day  I  called  thee  wife ; 
And  that  thy  presence,  like  a  prayer, 

Forever  sanctifies  my  life. 

Since  I  came  to  Woodbine  Cottage  I  have  resumed 
many  of  my  boyhood's  amusements ;  and,  every  few  days, 
recently,  I  have  gone  with  my  little  ones  to  gather  black 
berries  on  the  neighboring  hill-sides.  They  grow  about 
here  in  great  abundance,  and  are  large  and  of  a  fine  flavor. 
I  feel  as  if  I  were  living  my  childhood  over  again.  The 
same  thickly  clustered  bushes,  into  which  I  used  in  by-gone 
days,  on  the  banks  of  the  Hudson,  to  scramble,  scratching 
my  hands  and  tearing  my  clothes  in  my  efforts  to  get  at 
the  luscious  berries,  which  strove  to  hide  themselves  under 
the  protecting  leaves,  seem  to  grow  here,  and  to  hold  as 
many  berries,  and  be  guarded  by  as  many  thorns.  But 
what  are  a  few  scratches  and  rents,  to  say  nothing  of  stained 
fingers,  in  comparison  with  the  pleasure  one  derives  from 
contemplating  his  heaped  basket  of  ripe  fruit!  The  ob 
taining  of  it  was  an  enjoyment  superior  even  to  that  which 
will  be  found  in  partaking  of  it.  Then,  too,  consider  the 
fun  which  the  little  ones  have  had !  What  marvellous 


84  OUT  OF   TOWN. 

sport  it  was  for  them  to  clamber  up  the  steep  rocks,  and 
climb  over  the  high  rail-fences !  How  venturous,  and  at 
the  same  time  delightful,  it  was  for  them  to  wander  out  of 
your  sight  for  a  while,  and  nearly  out  of  the  hearing  of 
your  voice,  while  they  explored,  in  a  spirit  worthy  of  a 
Christopher  Columbus,  the  course  of  the  mountain  stream 
which  came  tumbling  over  rocks  from  no  one  knows  where, 
and  going,  foaming  and  singing,  no  one  kiiows  whither, 
forming  deep  pools  where  wonderful  fish  —  trout,  per 
chance  —  might  be  dwelling,  and  making  miniature  Niag 
aras,  beautiful  to  look  at  and  perilous  to  cross,  as  it  dashed 
over  rocky  precipices !  Ah !  we  grown  folks  are  apt  to 
forget  that  we  were  once  young,  and  found  pleasure  in 
blackberrying  and  wandering  in  the  woods ;  but  after  a 
little  while  spent  in  the  country,  if  we  are  surrounded  by 
children,  the  remembrance  returns  to  us,  and  inclination 
often  leads  us  to  renew  with  them  the  delights  of  our 
school-days. 


OUT  OF   TOWN.  85 


CHAPTER   XV. 

Three  Good  Things,  —  A  Wood-fire,  a  Barrel  of  Ale,  and  a  Package  of 
New  Books.  —  A  Reminiscence  of  Hillside.  —  The  Ills  of  the  Flesh. — 
Cosmetics.  —  The  Blazing  Fire.  —  A  Back-log.  —  My  Cherry-tree.  — 
A  Loud  of  Wood  at  Half- price.  —  The  Package  of  Books.  —  A  Mug  of 
Ale.  —  Our  Club.  —  In  the  Library.  —  The  President.  —  The  Members. 
Magazines.  —  Books. 

II REE  good  things  have  come  recently  to  Wood 
bine  Cottage,— a  wood  fire,  a  barrel  of  October  ale, 
and  a  package  of  new  books.  Heaven  sent  the 
first,  the  brewers  the  second,  and  my  publishers  the  third. 
When  I  say  that  Heaven  sent  the  wood-fire,  I  mean  that 
Heaven  caused  the  tree  to  grow  from  which  it  was  made, 
and  inserted  into  the  early  autumn  the  cool  night  which 
induced  me  to  build  it.  How  my  friends,  the  great  Albany 
brewers,  however,  knew  that  I  was  going  to  have  a  wood- 
fire  blazing  on  my  hearth,  and,  therefore,  the  very  day  I 
lighted  it,  sent  me  a  barrel  of  Aster  ale,  of  which  to  quaff 
foaming  mugs  sitting  before  it ;  or  how  my  publishers, 
making  up  into  a  package  the  books  which  had  for  sev 
eral  weeks  past  been  arriving  from  various  publishers  who 
were  kind  enough  to  send  them  to  me,  had  foreseen  the 
pleasure  I  would  take  in  examining  them,  with  my  wife 
and  little  ones  seated  around  me,  before  that  blazing  fire,  I 

O  ' 

cannot  tell ;  but  so  it  was,  and  if  a  man  ever  enjoyed  the 
first  fire  of  autumn,  it  would  not  have  been  necessary  to 
have  gone  out  of  my  cottage  that  night  to  have  found  him. 
These  late  October  nights,  full-mooned  and  frosty,  are  de 
lightful  to  know,  especially  if  you  make  their  acquaintance 
from  your  library  window.  I  do  not  so  much  enjoy  being 
out  among  them,  and  I  confess  that  I  more  fully  delight  in 


86  OUT  OF   TOWN. 

the  daytime,  when  I  can  walk  in  the  sunshine,  and,  shel 
tered  from  the  wind,  creep  along  through  the  autumnal 
woods,  which  have  put  on  their  robes  of  purple  and  gold, 
and  orange  and  scarlet.  The  nuts  are  ripe,  the  chestnuts 
have  opened  their  prickly  burrs,  and  the  walnuts  unclosed 
their  hard  shucks.  The  apples  are  being  gathered  into  the 
cellars ;  the  rosy  Spitzenberg,  the  purple  Seek-no-farther, 
the  yellow  Pippin,  the  Greening,  and  all  the  newer  varie 
ties,  are  forsaking  the  orchards  for  the  homes  of  man.  We 
are  getting  along  towards  Thanksgiving  Day,  and  already 
the,  savor  of  pumpkin  and  mince  pies  is  wafted  to  us.  Oys 
ters,  too,  are  in  their  prime.  I  drank  my  first  hot  whiskey 
punch  of  the  season,  too,  to-day,  and  now  have  just  tapped 
a  barrel  of  October  ale,  —  that  ale  of  which  a  modern 
rhymer  thus  sings  :  — 

"  October's  brewago,  pure  and  creamy, 

Fragrant  of  hops  and  malt  new  made, 
To  childhood's  hours,  so  sweet  and  dreamy, 

Fraught  more  with  sunshine  than  with  shade,  — 
Carried  us  back  to  when  we  rambled 

With  pretty  Madge  o'er  hill  and  dale, 
While  trusty  Watch  before  us  gambolled, 

Long  ere  we  knew  the  taste  of  ale. 

"  The  scent  of  blossoming  hops  was  wafted 

From  fields  where  vines  innumerous  grew, 
And  'midst  its  perfume  there  was  grafted 

A  savor  which  the  barley  knew. 
Those  climbing  vines,  those  fields  of  barley, 

Heard  then  full  many  a  pleasant  tale, 
While  for  her  kisses  we  did  parley, 

Recalled  to  mind  now  o'er  our  ale. 

"  Those  halcyon  days  long  since  have  vanished, 
For  Madge,  dear  Madge,  is  now  but  dust ; 

Her  form  on  earth  for  aye  is  banished, 
Her  spirit  mingles  with  the  just. 

But  while  remembrance  bids  us  weep  her, 
Our  love  through  life  will  never  fail, 


OUT  OF   TOWN.  87 

For  in  our  heart  of  hearts  we  '11  keep  her, 
And  drink  her  memory  with  our  ale." 

I  had  not  known  the  delights  of  a  wood-fire  before  since 

O 

I  left  Hillside,  nearly  ten  years  ago  ;  and  when  I  got  the  fire 
fully  under  way,  and  saw  the  bright  flames  rushing  up  the 
chimney,  the  shadows  dancing  on  the  ceiling,  the  light 
gleaming  on  the  polished  andirons,  the  children  nestling 
on  the  thick  rug  at  my  feet,  roasting  chestnuts  and  watch 
ing  the  smoke-wreaths,  I  half  thought  that  those  early  days 
of  married  life  had  come  back,  and  I  was  in  the  old  house 
again  where  I  had  passed  so  many  joyous  honeymoons. 
The  sight,  though,  of  several  more  chubby  little  faces  and 
pairs  of  naked  feet  than  I  had  known  in  the  olden  time 
showed  me  that  years  had  passed  since  then  ;  and  though 
I  will  not  say  that  Time  has  dared  to  lay  a  finger  on  my 
wife,  yet  I  will  confess  that  he  has  not  passed  me  by  un 
recognized.  There  are  deeper  wrinkles  on  my  brow,  more 
gray  hairs  in  my  whiskers,  and  the  bald  spot  on  the  crown 
of  my  head,  which  could  then  have  been  covered  with  a 
dime,  could  not  now  be  hidden  with  a  silver  dollar.  One 
cannot  expect,  though,  to  be  a  boy  forever ;  and  though  he 
may,  to  a  certain  extent,  retain  his  youthful  feelings  and 
lightness  of  step,  sly  wrinkles  will  creep  around  his  eyes, 
and  sober  moments  come  to  confront  him.  The  very  sight 
of  his  children,  as  they  play  around,  perpetually  reminds 
him  that  his  days  of  childhood  have  departed,  and  that 
henceforth  his  steps  will  glide  into  shadowy  paths,  and  the 
ills  which  flesh  is  heir  to  will  crowd  upon  him,  and  sight 
and  hearing  will  grow  feebler,  the  strong  voice  yield  to 
weakness,  and  the  vigorous  walk  become  tottering  and  un 
certain.  "  In  short,  my  dear,"  I  continued,  —  for  I  had 
been  uttering  something  like  the  above  to  Mrs.  Gray,  — 
"  the  silver  cord  will  be  loosed  and  the  golden  bowl  be 
broken."  I  spoke  in  such  a  melancholy  tone  that  it  quite 
moved  my  wife,  who  said,  in  a  cheerful  voice,  '•  Don't,  my 
dear,  let  it  grieve  you  that  you  are  not  so  young  as  you 


88  OUT  OF   TOWN. 

once  were.  Look  at  me ;  see  how  well  I  bear  up  under 
my  years  and  the  increased  cares  which  these  little  ones 
entail  upon  me." 

"  It  is  all  very  well,"  I  said,  somewhat  maliciously,  I  con 
fess,  "for  you  ladies,  who  employ  all  kinds  of  cosmetics, 
and  rouges,  and  powders,  and  hair-dyes,  to  keep  up  your 
youthful  appearance ;  but  we  men,  who  do  not  care  to  re 
sort  to  such  artificial  aids,  must  grow  old  in  spite  of  our 
selves,  though  you  remain,  apparently,  as  blooming  and  fair 
as  ever." 

Now,  if  there  be  one  thing  more  than  another  which 
Mrs.  G.  prides  herself  upon,  it  is  in  the  non-employment 
of  these  toilet  articles  ;  and  as  she  knew  that  I  was  aware 
she  never  used  them,  she  contented  herself  by  answering 
me  simply  with  a  rebukeful  look. 

The  fire  blazed  on  the  hearth  magnificently;  the  smoke 
rolled  in  clouds  up  the  chimney ;  the  wood  sputtered  and 
snapped  as  if  it  were  alive,  —  which,  indeed,  a  portion  of  it 
was,  —  and,  from  the  great  back  log  the  sap  oozed  out  in 
as  lively  a  manner  as  did  the  foam  from  around  the  faucet 
entering  my  barrel  of  ale.  I  was  quite  struck  with  the  ap 
pearance  of  that  back-log,  and  it  suddenly  occurred  to  me 
to  ask  my  wife  where  it  came  from. 

"  Ah,"  she  replied,  "  I  have  been  waiting  to  have  you 
ask  me  about  it,  for  there  is  a  history  connected  with  it." 

"  A  history ! "  I  echoed. 

"  Yes,"  she  replied ;  "  you  remember  the  story  of  the 
boy  George  Washington  and  the  cherry-tree?" 

"  Of  course  I  do,"  I  answered.  "  It  was  rather  impressed 
upon  me,  when  a  child,  because  I  was  once  naughty  enough 
to  tell  an  untruth.  But  what  has  that  got  to  do,  I  should 
like  to  know,  with  our  back-log  ?  " 

"  Well,  there  is  a  similarity  between  the  two,"  she  re 
plied. 

"You  don't  mean  to  say,"  I  exclaimed,  "that  our  little 
boy  has  been  cutting  down  our  cherry-tree  ?  " 


OUT  OF   TOWN.  89 

"  I  do,"  she  replied,  "  and  that  back-log  is  the  result.  It 
took  him,  though,  all  day  to  chop  it  down,  and  he  had  to 
call  to  his  assistance  one  or  two  elder  boys  ;  but  he  perse 
vered,  and  though  he  blistered  his  hands  fearfully,  and 
tore  his  jacket  in  an  unmendable  manner,  he  finally  got 
the  tree  down." 

Now,  if  there  was  one  tree  in  that  garden  which  I 
prized  above  another,  it  was  that  cherry-tree.  Not  that  I 
had  obtained  from  it  much  fruit, — for  what,  between  the 
children  and  the  birds,  very  few  of  its  cherries  graced  my 
table,  —  but  because  it  was  a  large  and  handsomely  formed 
tree,  and  was  an  ornament  to  my  grounds.  I  was  quite 
provoked,  therefore,  when  I  learned  that  my  small  boy  had 
cut  it  down,  and  was  disposed  to  punish  him  for  so  doing. 
But  when  his  mother  told  me  that  he  had  come  to  her  in 
the  morning,  and  asked  if  she  would  like  a  load  of  wood, 
at  about  half  the  cost  which  the  woodmen  charged,  and 

O          ' 

promised  to  obtain  it  for  her  before  night ;  and  she  had 
made  a  bargain  with  him  to  that  effect,  and  he  had  inno 
cently  gone  to  work  and  laid  low  the  pride  of  my  fruit- 
trees,  and  was  inclined  to  glory  in  his  success,  I  was  dis 
posed  to  forgive  him  the  injury  he  had  unwittingly  in 
flicted. 

When,  taking  him  on  my  knee,  I  told  him  of  the  error 
he  had  committed,  and  gave  him  much  good  and  fatherly 
advice  in  regard  to  future  cherry-trees,  his  under-lip  quiv 
ered,  and  his  eyes  were  dimmed  with  tears,  as  he  promised 
me  "  never  any  more  "  to  cut  down  a  cherry-tree. 

This  little  affair  being  happily  settled,  we  took  kindly  to 
the  wood-fire,  and,  as  it  blazed  up  more  brightly  than  ever, 
and  threw  its  heat  out  further  into  the  room,  we  grew 
warmer  and  more  comfortable ;  and,  my  little  boy  lugging 
out  the  package  of  books  from  behind  the  door,  we  placed 
it  upon  the  table,  and  proceeded  to  investigate  its  contents. 
Before  doing  so,  however,  I  proposed  to  my  wife  that  now, 
since  cool  weather  had  set  in,  arid  the  evenings  were  get- 


90  OUT  OF   TOWN. 

ting  long,  that  we  institute  a  sort  of  club,  of  a  semi-literary, 
semi-gossiping  character,  to  which  the  children,  and  who 
ever  of  our  friends  might  chance  to  drop  in  upon  us,  should 
be  admitted,  and  take  part  in  the  proceedings. 

"  Good  gracious,  Mr.  Gray  !  "  exclaimed  my  wife  ;  "  what 
an  idea !  It 's  preposterous  !  I  never  heard  of  such  a 
thing  in  my  life.  The  thought  of  you  and  I  forming  a 
semi  what-do-you-call-it-kind  of  a  club,  is  really  too  ridic 
ulous." 

"  Why  is  it  ridiculous  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  Oh  !  because  it  is,"  Mrs.  G.  answered. 

"Well,  if  you  can  advance  no  better  reason  than  that, 
Mrs.  Gray,"  I  replied,  slightly  excited,  "  you  will  never  con 
vince  me  of  its  ridiculousness.  If  you  don't  choose  to  join 
me,  my  dear,  you  need  not ;  but  in  that  case  I  shall  go  to 
town  and  apply  to  the  '  Century '  to  be  admitted  as  a 
member,  and  shall  thenceforth  pass  my  evenings  at  the 
club-house." 

"  But  suppose  the  '  Century '  don't  think  you  worthy  of 
membership,  and  reject  you,  what  will  you  do  then  ?  " 

"  In  that  event,  Mrs.  Gray,  I  shall  join  a  '  Free  and 
Easy '  that  holds  its  meetings  at  LufFy's  tavern  here  in  the 
village." 

"  Rather  than  have  you  do  that,  my  love,  I  will  unite 
with  you  in  forming  a  club  at  home,  of  which  you  shall  be 
president  and  I  secretary." 

The  little  ones  agreeing  to  this,  I  proceeded  to  inaugu 
rate,  by  electing  myself  president  of  the  same,  the  club,  to 
which  I  gave  the  name  of 

IN    THE   LIBRARY. 

"  This  club,"  I  said,  speaking  officially,  and  seating  my 
self  in  the  large  mahogany  arm-chair,  which  had  come 
over  long  before  the  May-Flower  reached  these  shores, 
"  is,  I  trust,  destined  to  become  a  great  institution  in  Wood 
bine  Cottage.  Matters  pertaining  to  pleasure  and  instruc- 


OUT   OF   TOWN.  91 

tion  will  have  consideration  at  its  meetings.  Many  impor 
tant  subjects  will  be  discussed  ;  books  and  pictures  will 
be  treated  of,  and,  perhaps,  occasionally  a  story  will  be 
told." 

Here  the  children  clapped  their  hands  approvingly,  and 
the  eldest  boy  exclaimed,  "  Hear  !  hear  ! "  I  also  took  the 
opportunity,  which  the  occasion  presented,  to  swallow  a 
mug  of  ale,  and,  after  wiping  the  foam  from  my  beard,  pro 
ceeded  to  open  the  package  before  me. 

The  magazine,  "  Our  Young  Folks,"  which  I  drew  forth 
first,  caused  Miss  Em.  to  clap  her  hands  with  glee,  and  to 
exclaim,  u  Now  I  shall  be  able  to  learn  whether  my  work 
ings  out  of  the  charades  and  enigmas  are  correct."  The 
next  was  a  copy  of  the  "Atlantic,"  which  my  wife  claimed 
as  her  own.  Then  came  "  Harper's,"  which  my  eldest,  who 
is  partial  to  the  pictures  and  the  editor's  drawer,  took  pos 
session  of.  The  next  treasure  was  a  package  of  bound 
books. 

"  My  dear,"  T  said  as  I  put  these  volumes  carefully  aside, 
"  I  think  I  will  take  charge  of  these,  and  during  the  com 
ing  winter  it  shall  be  my  pleasure  to  read  them  aloud  to 
you.  Of  one  of  these  volumes,  the  '  Edinburgh  Review  '  — 
high  authority,  my  dear  —  says  :  '  It  exhibits  a  brilliancy 
of  poetic  diction  and  a  power  of  melody  of  a  very  high 
order.' " 

"  Why,  when,  my  dear,"  asked  Mrs.  Gray,  "  did  you  read 
this  in  the  Review  ?  And  what  a  memory  you  must  have  ! 
Why,  I  'm  certain  if  I  had  read  it  only  yesterday  I  should 
not  have  remembered  it  even  till  now  ! " 

"  Oh,  well,  you  women,"  I  replied,  placing  my  glasses  on 
my  nose,  and  looking  wisely  at  her  from  above  them,  "  can't 
be  expected  to  have  such  memories  as  we  men  possess. 
Why,  bless  you,  my  love  ! "  I  continued,  looking  boldly  at 
her  now  through  the  glasses,  "  I  remember  everything  I 
read.  I  never  forget  a  sentence." 

"  I  wish,  my  dear,"  my  wife  made  answer,  as  she  heaved 


92  OUT  OF  TOWN. 

a  little  sigh,  "  that  you  would  not  forget  to  perform,  as  you 
do,  many  little  requests  which  I  make  of  you  in  regard  to 
household  matters.  If  you  have  a  good  memory  for  some 
things,  why  not  for  everything  ?  If  you  can  remember 
what  is  said  about  a  book  which  you  have  never  seen,  why 
cannot  you  remember  to  stop  at  the  shoemaker's,  as  I  so 
often  request  you  to  do  when  in  the  city,  and  get  the  chil 
dren  some  shoes  ?  " 

"•  Yes,  papa,  do  !  "  exclaimed  Em. 

And  '•  Yes,  papa,  do  !  "  echoed  her  three  successors. 

"  Well,  my  children,"  I  said,  "  your  poor  papa  will  en 
deavor  to  remember  it ;  but  you  must  be  aware  that  he 
cannot  remember  everything,  though  your  dear  mamma 
thinks  he  can  ;  and  that,  moreover,  it  is  very  important 
that  he  should  remember  everything  the  '  Edinburgh  Re 
view  '  says  about  books." 

"  Poor  papa,  indeed,"  said  mamma. 

And  "  Poor  papa,"  echoed  each  of  the  children. 

"  My  dear,"  I  said,  reprovingly,  "  I  shall  be  obliged  to 
close  this  meeting  of  the  club  unless  better  order  can  be  kept. 
The  children  cannot  be  allowed  "  —  and  here  I  looked  very 
sternly  at  them,  which  made  Em.  tremble  — "  to  create 
such  a  disturbance  with  impunity.  Yes,  my  dear,  the 
meeting  stands  adjourned." 


OUT  OF  TOWN.  93 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

My  Literary  Young  Lady;  her  Manuscript;  her  New  Play.  —  Night- 
Work.  —  Lady  Macbeth.  —  A  Critic  on  a  Lounge.  — An  Interruption.— 
Outside  Callers.  — A  Sad  Case.  — A  Rude  Fellow.  —  Rev.  Mr.  Strickle- 
bat. —  My  Revolver. —An  Explanation  desired.  —  Crazy  People.  —  A 
Haunted  House.  —  The  Revelation.  —  A  Play-woman. — The  Domi 
nie's  Sermons.  — Missions  to  perform.  —  Sundry  Gifts.  —  Dispersing 
the  Rabble.  —  A  Glass  of  Old  Port.  —  Peace. 

;Y  literary  young  lady  promises  to  be  as  much  of  a 
fixture  at  Woodbine  Cottage  as  my  old  soldier 
was  at  Hillside.  She  dropped  in  upon  us  just  at 
dinner-time  one  evening  several  months  ago,  to  spend  an 
hour  or  two,  and  has  been  with  us  ever  since.  I  am  happy 
in  being  able  to  state  that  it  is  not  owing  to  my  not  having 
read  and  given  my  opinion  as  to  the  character  of  her  man 
uscript  that  she  remains  with  us,  for  I  accomplished  that 
task  many  weeks  since.  When  I  gave  up  my  twilight 
walks  to  the  Bronx,  and  my  moonlight  conversations  on 
the  veranda  with  her,  I  found  that  I  had  more  time  to  de 
vote  to  the  perusal  of  her  manuscript.  In  fact,  in  less 
than  a  week  after  these  peregrinations  and  conversaziones 
ceased  I  had  finished  my  allotted  work.  I  am  afraid, 
though,  that  the  favorable  opinion  which  I  passed  upon 
Miss  Floy's  production  incited  her  to  make  a  fresh  incur 
sion  into  the  field  of  literature.  Indeed,  I  know  it  was  so ; 
for  the  very  next  day  she  came  to  the  dinner-table  with  ex 
ceedingly  inky  fingers  and  a  badly  arranged  waterfall,  be 
sides  being  minus  a  collar  and  with  boots  unlaced,  and, 
asking  me  to  excuse  her  untidiness,  —  she  termed  it,  how 
ever,  appearance,  —  said  that  the  praise  I  had  bestowed 
upon  her  recent  production  had  induced  her  to  commence 


94  OUT  OF   TOWN. 

writing  a  play  —  a  drama  in  five  acts  —  which  she  intended 
to  complete  before  she  left  Woodbine  Cottage,  and  which, 
when  finished,  she  desired  to  submit  to  my  judgment. 

Now  I  have  not,  I  know,  a  great  deal  to  do ;  but  still, 
after  devoting  fifteen  hours  a  day  to  prescribed  duties,  I 
have  not  much  time,  taking  out  sleeping  hours,  to  give  to 
extra  labor.  I  told  Miss  Floy  as  much,  and  added  that, 
unless  there  was  some  "let  up  "  on  rny  present  duties,  I 
did  not  know  when  I  would  be  able  to  read  her  play. 

She  replied  that  she  had  considered  all  that,  and,  if  my 
wife  had  no  objection,  she  thought  a  good  plan  would  be  to 
come  once  a  week,  after  the  little  ones  had  gone  to  bed,  to 
the  library,  and  read  aloud  to  me  what  she  had  written 
during  the  preceding  days. 

"  But  what  if  I  should  fall  asleep  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  Oh,  then,"  she  replied,  u  I  will  stop  reading.  Besides," 
she  added,  "  by  this  means  Mrs.  Gray  will  also  have  the 
pleasure  of  hearing  my  play." 

"  Which  privilege,  I  presume,"  I  said,  rather  maliciously, 
"  she  may  never  otherwise  have." 

.  "  Oh,  yes,  she  will,"  said  Miss  Floy,  quickly,  "  but  not, 
perhaps,  until  it  is  acted  at  the  theatre ;  and  that,  you 
know,  may  not  be  for  some  time  to  come." 

"  That  is  true,"  I  answered  ;  "  but  still,  do  you  think  that 
my  wife  will  care  to  listen  to  your  play  ?  " 

"  Oh,"  said  the  incorrigible  young  woman  ;  "  I  know  she  '11 
like  dearly  to  hear  it." 

"  Well,"  I  said,  "  if  she  has  no  objections.  I  don't  know 
that  I  have  ;  only  be  careful  not  to  make  your  readings 
over  an  hour  long." 

She  promised  to  observe  this  rule,  and  then  retired  tri 
umphantly  to  her  apartment. 

I  saw  nothing  more  of  that  young  lady  for  three  days. 
She  took  her  meals  quite  irregularly,  and,  I  understood, 
was  en  deshabille  all  the  time.  She  evidently  had  a  severe 
attack  of  drama  on  the  brain,  and  was  actively  engaged  in 


OUT   OF   TOWN.  95 

working  it  off.  I  could  hear  her,  though,  from  time  to 
time,  when  I  was  in  the  house,  reciting  aloud  passages  of 
her  composition  ;  and  once,  when  there  was  a  terrible  com 
motion  in  her  room,  and  it  sounded  as  if  every  article  of 
furniture  therein  was  heing  indiscriminately  broken  to 
pieces,  I  knew  that  a  climax  had  been  reached,  and  proba 
bly  the  first  act  was  finished.  And  I  was  right;  for  late 
that  very  evening  I  was  aroused  from  my  after-dinner  nap 
by  a  tap  on  the  library  door,  and  as  I  opened  my  eyes  Miss 
Floy,  looking  very  much  like  Lady  Macbeth,  glided  into  the 
room,  clad  in  a  long  white  gown,  ruffled  around  the  throat 
and  down  the  front  in  a  double  row,  between  which  little 
pearl  buttons  were  studded.  Her  hair  hung  in  slightly 
disordered  masses  around  her  face,  which  was  exceedingly 
pale,  while  a  touch  of  rouge  on  each  cheek  rather  added  to 
the  pallor,  which  was  assisted  by  a  dark  line  drawn  under 
her  eyes.  She  bore  in  one  hand  a  lighted  candle,  and  in 
the  other  a  roll  of  manuscript. 

I  confess  I  was  somewhat  startled  at  her  appearance  ; 
having  the  sanctity  of  my  library  invaded  at  that  late  hour 
—  it  was  close  on  midnight —  by  what  looked  like  a  female 
apparition,  rather  overpowered  me  ;  but  I  was,  fortunately, 
equal  to  the  emergency,  and  instantly  recognizing  who  it 
was,  and,  further,  knowing  that  my  hour  had  come,  I  pre 
pared  myself,  resignedly,  by  elevating  my  head  on  the  sofa 
and  turning  a  little  more  on  my  right  side,  to  listen  to  the 
first  act  of  Miss  Floy's  drama. 

After  all,  it  is  not  an  unpleasant  thing  to  hear  an  agree 
able  young  damsel,  with  a  musical  voice,  and  clad  in  an 
attractive  costume,  read  aloud  a  play  possessing  more  than 
ordinary  merit.  Perhaps,  too,  the  fact  that  Mrs.  Gray  was 
beside  me,  hemming  a  dainty  bit  of  ruffling,  added  to  my 
contentment. 

As  it  was  a  warm  night,  the  window  near  which  Miss 
Floy  sat  was  open,  the  blinds  only  partially  closed,  and 
through  them  the  moonlight  fell  in  softened  radiance  upon 


96  OUT  OF   TOWN. 

her  face,  lighting  up  and  giving  a  more  than  usual  intel 
lectual  cast  to  her  features.  The  rending  of  the  play  pro 
ceeded  very  successfully,  and  without  interruption,  until 
near  the  close  of  the  second  act,  where  the  villain  of  the 
play  is  about  to  commit  a  deadly  assault  upon  the  heroine, 
a  young,  lovely,  virtuous,  and  unprotected  orphan  girl, 
when  Miss  Floy  and  myself  were  startled  by  a  violent 
hammering  at  the  front-door,  accompanied  with  a  loud  de 
mand  for  instant  admittance. 

Who  it  was  or  what  it  all  meant  I  could   not  imagine  : 

O  * 

and  although  I  had  from  time  to  time,  in  the  pauses  of 
Miss  Floy's  reading,  heard  a  suppressed  murmur  of  voices, 
as  if  some  persons  were  talking  just  in  front  of  the  house, 
I  had  paid  no  attention  to  it,  and  therefore  this  sudden  at 
tack  upon  my  door  took  me  by  surprise.  My  wife  and 
children  were  quickly  alarmed,  and  the  latter,  being  much 
frightened,  set  up  a  series  of  cries,  which,  combined  with 
the  shouts  outside,  "  served,"  as  the  newspaper  reporters 
say,  "  to  make  night  hideous." 

The  noise  below  continuing  with  unabated  vigor,  Mrs. 
Gray  urged  me  to  hasten  my  movements  and  go  down  to 
the  door  and  see  what  the  trouble  was. 

When,  therefore,  I  opened  the  door,  I  demanded,  in  no 
mild  tone,  to  know  what  was  meant  by  disturbing  me  and 
mine  at  this  hour  of  the  night.  The  persons  outside 
seemed  rather  surprised  at  rny  questions,  and  a  burly  fel 
low  whom  I  did  not  know,  but  whom  I  understood  after 
ward  was  the  bully  politician  of  the  village,  seized  me  by 
the  arm  and  said,  "  Murder  was  what  was  meant,  and  they 
would  like  to  see  the  young  woman  as  I  was  a-murdering." 

I  shook  off  the  grasp  of  the  rude  fellow,  and  turning  to 
my  nearest  neighbor,  the  Rev.  Mr.  Stricklebat,  asked  him 
to  oblige  me  with  an  explanation  of  the  strange  proceed 
ings  in  which  he  was  taking  so  active  a  part.  The  old 
gentleman  shook  his  head,  and  turning  to  one  of  his  pa 
rishioners,  another  neighbor,  said  :  "  Well,  well,  this  cool- 


OUT  OF  TOWN.  97 

ness  on  his  part  is  more  than  I  expected  to  witness !  I 
think  we  had  better  proceed  to  search  the  house." 

Ever  since  I  learned  that  we  possessed  no  policeman  in 
our  village,  I  have  kept  a  loaded  revolver  in  my  dressing- 
table  drawer ;  and,  as  I  had  taken  the  precaution  to  bring 
it  with  me  down-stairs  when  I  came,  I  was  prepared  to 
prevent  any  such  proceeding  on  their  part.  So,  when  I 
produced  the  pistol,  and  assured  them  that  my  house  could 
not  be  searched,  they  not  only  gave  up  the  point,  but 
evinced  a  decided  disposition  to  retreat.  Of  the  half-dozen 
individuals  present,  only  the  Rev.  Mr.  Stricklebat  showed 
any  courage,  and  when  the  others  fell  back,  leaving  him 
standing  tall  and  gaunt  before  me,  I  said  that  if  he  would 

O  O  ' 

like  to  come  into  the  house  he  could  do  so ;  and  as  there 
was  evidently  an  egregious  blunder  of  some  kind  commit 
ted  by  some  one,  I  would  be  pleased  to  have  him  enlighten 
me  in  regard  to  it. 

When  he  entered,  closing  and  locking  the  front-door,  I 
ushered  him  into  the  library.  He  seemed  suspicious  of  the 
pistol  until  I  laid  it  on  the  table,  when  he  brightened  up 
and  said  that  it  did  really  seem  as  if  a  mistake  had  been 
made,  and,  as  it  had  probably  originated  with  him,  it  was 
proper  that  he  should  endeavor  to  explain.  "  But  who,"  he 
asked,  wiping  his  bald  head  with  his  handkerchief,  "  was 
uttering  those  terrible  threats  which  had  so  alarmed  him  ?  " 

"  What  threats  ?  "  I  asked.     "  I  have  heard  none." 

"  None  ! "  he  exclaimed.  "  Then  we  outside  were  all 
crazy,  or  else  the  house  is  haunted.  Do  you  mean  to  say 
that  you  were  asleep  when  we  came  to  the  door,  and  that 
you  heard  no  fearful  imprecations  ?  " 

"  Well,"  I  answered,  "I  was  not  asleep,  that  is  very  cer 
tain  ;  but,  as  for  —  say  no  more  !  "  I  cried  ;  "  I  understand 
it  all  now  !  " 

And  I  sat  back  in  my  chair  and  laughed  heartily.  This 
proceeding  on  my  part  seemed  to  frighten  the  old  parson 
more  than  the  display  of  the  pistol  had ;  for  he  evidently 
7 


98  OUT  OF  -TOWN. 

thought  I  had  gone  mad.  And  it  was  not  until  Mrs.  Gray 
and  Miss  Floy,  who,  reassured  by  my  laughter,  had  ap 
peared,  that  I  could  find  breath  to  explain  to  the  old  man 
the  error  into  which  he  had  fallen. 

Then  I  asked  Miss  Floy  to  bring  to  me  her  manuscript, 
and  requested  her  to  read  aloud  several  passages,  before 
the  old  dominie  could  understand  how  it  was  that  he  had 
been  deceived  into  supposing  he  heard  two  distinct  per 
sons,  and  one  of  these  apparently  a  man.  When  he  did 
realize  it,  however,  and  heard  Miss  Floy  declaim  at  one 
moment  in  a  most  masculine  voice,  and  the  next  in  her 
own  silvery  tones,  he  was  greatly  impressed,  and  asked  me, 
the  next  day,  if  she  was  a  "  stage-woman." 

When  I  told  him  that  she  was  not,  but  that  she  was  en 
gaged  in  writing  the  play,  —  the  recital  of  some  portions 
of  which  had  so  disturbed  him, — he  said  that  he  had  al 
ways  preached  against  plays  and  play-actors,  play-writers 
and  play-goers  ;  but  he  began  to  have  his  doubts  whether, 
after  all,  he  was  in  the  right.  Tie  had  been  led,  since  the 
occurrence  of  last  night,  to  think  seriously  upon  the  idea 
whether,  after  all,  a  certain  mission  is  not  given  to  every 
body  in  life  to  perform.  "  To  one  is  given,  as  in  my  own 
case,"  he  continued,  "  the  gift  of  writing  and  preaching 
sermons  ;  to  another,  as  in  her  case,  the  gift  of  writing  and 
performing  plays.  Now,  it  still  further  occurs  to  me  that, 
if  I  was  given  the  gift  of  a  play-writer,  and,  as  is  apparent 
in  her  case,  accompanied  with  the  gift  of  a  play-actor,  I 
should  accept  that  as  my  mission  on  earth,  and  would  live, 
as  far  as  possible,  in  accordance  with  it.  I  don't  think  I 
myself  shall  ever  go  to  see  a  play  enacted ;  but  I  shall 
never  again  preach  against  them,  or  those  who  go  to  wit 
ness  them." 

When  the  old  parson  became  assured  that  there  was  no 
murder  being  committed  in  my  dwelling,  he  went  out  to 
the  rabble  gathered  at  the  door,  and,  explaining  the  matter 
to  them,  advised  them  to  go  quietly  home,  which  advice, 


OUT  OF  TOWN.  39 

with  much  laughter,  they  followed.  Then  he  returned  to 
the  house  and  told  me  that  he  had  been  engaged,  at  the 
late  hour  of  midnight,  in  writing  his  next  Sunday's  sermon, 
when  he  was  verily  surprised  to  hear,  rising  on  the  silent 
air,  what  was  apparently  the  voices  of  two  persons  engaged 
in  an  angry  dispute.  Several  expressions  of  a  threatening 
character  attracted  his  attention  and  decided  him  in  going 
to  learn  from  whence  they  proceeded.  Aware  that  mine 
was  a  Christian  household,  he  could  not  at  first  credit  his 
ears  when  he  found  that  these  high  words  proceeded  from 
my  library.  He  was  led  to  suspect  that  a  fearful  deed  was 
about  to  be  committed,  and,  on  rousing  a  neighbor  or  two, 
and  stopping  a  couple  of  passers-by,  who  heard  with  him 
the  frightful  imprecations,  the  party  decided  to  invade,  vi  et 
armis,  my  dwelling.  With  what  result  the  reader  is  al 
ready  acquainted. 

The  old  dominie  seemed,  before  he  left  us,  to  fully  enjoy 
the  blunder  he  had  made,  and,  as  I  was  fearful  that  the  ex 
posure  to  the  night  air  which  he  had  undergone  might  be 
detrimental  to  his  health,  I  opened  a  bottle  of  crusty  old 
port,  which  had  cobwebbed  for  years  in  sundry  cellars,  and 
the  companions  of  which  were  only  accustomed  to  being 
opened  on  birthdays  and  christenings.  I  think  if  the  old 
parson  finished  his  sermon  that  night,  it  possessed  more 
than  usual  excellence  ;  for,  when  he  departed,  he  gave  us 
all  his  blessing,  and  we,  during  the  remainder  of  the  night, 
slept  in  peace. 


100  OUT  OF  TOWN. 


CHAPTER  XVH. 

An  Autumnal  Storm. — At  Home.  —  Boots.  —  Balmorals  ami  Polish. — 
In  a  Shoe.  —  Small  Feet.  —  St.  Crispin.  —  The  Tapping  of  a  Little  Foot. 
"  Why  the  Shoe  Pinches."  —  New  Principle.  —  The  Poetry  of  Slippers. 
Cinderella's  Glass  Slipper.  —  A  Plain  Moral.  —  The  Ancients  on  Shoes. 
Asleep. 

AM  very  thankful,  my  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Gray  to 
me,  as  we  drew  our  chairs  toward  the  centre-table 
around  the  library-lamp  in  the  library,  "  that  you 
are  not  obliged  to  be  in  town,  exposed  to  the  chilling  storm 
this  evening,  but  can  remain  comfortably  at  home  with  me. 
How  the  wind  blows,  rattling  the  blinds  and  driving  the 
rain  against  the  window-panes.  Oh !  the  streets  of  a 
great  city  at  night,  when  one  of  these  autumnal  storms  is 
raging,  are  dreary  enough.  What  a  forsaken  and  home 
less  appearance  has  the  pedestrian  whom  one  beholds  by 
the  flickering  blaze  of  the  street-light,  hurrying  along,  buf 
feted  by  the  wind,  and  striving  vainly  to  shield  himself 
from  the  rain  behind  an  umbrella  that  it  is  a  labor  to  carry, 
so  strong  is  the  wind  and  so  determinedly  it  blows.  You 
are  a  very  fortunate  man,  Mr.  Gray,  in  having  so  cheerful 
a  room  in  which  to  pass  such  an  evening  as  is  this.  The 
wood-fire  blazes  cheerily,  you  have  plenty  of  new  books  to 
read,  and,  if  you  desire  it,  there  are  all  the  concomitants 
for  the  brewing  of  a  punch  close  at  hand.  No  one  but  a 
lonely  bachelor  on  wicked  deeds  intent  would  venture  out- 
of-doors  on  such  an  evening  as  this.  No  married  man,  I 
am  certain,  would  think  of  such  a  thing,  much  less  allow 
himself  to  hint  such  a  thought  to  his  wife,  or  attempt  to 
execute  it.  It  would  be  preposterous,  my  love,  —  would  it 
not?" 


OUT  OF  TOWN.  101 

"  It  would  be  so,  Mrs.  Gray,"  I  answered  somewhat 
quickly  ;  "  but  I  do  not  really  understand  the  object  of 
your  remarks,  my  dear,  for  I  assure  you  /  have  no  inten 
tion  of  venturing  abroad  to-night.  If  you  think,  because 
I  told  the  servant,  when  I  first  came  home,  to  get  my  thick 
boots  and  apply  some  oil-paste  blacking  to  them,  that  I 
purpose  going  out,  you  are  much  mistaken.  I  shall  prob 
ably  require  the  boots  to-morrow  morning,  but  not  before. 
Besides,  this  evening  I  propose  devoting  to  our  club,  and 
as  there  is  little  prospect  of  visitors,  suppose  we  begin  im 
mediately." 

"  Well,  what  shall  we  talk  about  ?  " 

"  Why,  if  it  boots  nothing  to  you,  my  dear,"  I  replied, 
"  let  the  subject  be  boots." 

"  Boots !  Mr.  Gray,"  exclaimed  my  wife  in  surprise ; 
"  what  kind  of  boots  ?  " 

"  All  kinds,"  I  replied ;  "  from  the  famous  seven-league 
ones  of  the  times  when  giants  were  abroad,  to  the  Balmor 
als  and  Polish  boots  worn  by  the  ladies  at  the  present 
day." 

"  The  subject  does  not,  I  confess,"  said  Mrs.  Gray, 
"  seem  to  me  especially  interesting  ;  but  you  may  perhaps 
be  able  to  state  facts  sufficiently  interesting  to  keep  the 
little  ones,  who  appear  to  be  wide  enough  awake  at  this 
moment,  from  falling  asleep.  I  know  you  to  be  fearfully 
correct  in  your  statement  of  facts,  and  have  often  won 
dered  that  you  would  condescend  to  build  castles  in  the 
air,  or  read  fairy  tales,  as  you  sometimes  do." 

"  Or  '  Mother  Goose's  Melodies,'  I  suppose,"  I  suggested: 
"  you  remember,  of  course,  the  nursery  rhyme  about  the 
old  woman  who  lived  in  a  shoe,  and  whose  progeny  was  so 
numerous  she  did  n't  know  what  to  do  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  she  answered. 

"  Well,  that  old  woman  is  one  of  my  facts,  or,  rather,  she 
represents  a  fact.  The  story,  if  interpreted,  would  read 
something  as  follows :  The  old  woman  is  plainly  nothing 


102  OUT   OF   TOWN. 

more  or  less  than  the  foot  itself;  the  children  are  the  five 
toes ;  the  shoe  was  a  fashionable  one,  doubtless,  made  so 
small  as  to  cramp  the  foot  until  it  wished  its  five  toes  were 
out  of  the  way.  But,  what  to  do  to  get  them  out  of  the  way 
was  the  puzzle  of  its  life  ;  so  to  settle  the  matter  it  put  on  a 
white  stocking  and  a  black,  and  then  put  its  toes  to  bed  in 
the  end  of  the  shoe,  where,  owing  to  the  limited  space  they 
occupied,  they  suffered  terrible  punishment,  which  was  re 
newed  every  day  as  long  as  the  shoe  lasted." 

"  The  shoe  then  should  have  been  made  on  a  larger 
last,"  was  Mrs.  Gray's  bad  pun. 

"  You  are  correct,  amiable  woman,"  I  replied ;  "  or  else 
the  plan  now  in  vogue  in  Paris,  of  amputating  one  or  more 
of  the  toes  to  allow  for  the  narrowness  of  the  shoe,  should 
have  been  adopted.  The  fact  is,  my  dear,  we  are  remark 
ably  partial  to  small  feet,  and  will  suffer  almost  any  incon 
venience  and  not  a  little  torture,  rather  than  wear  boots  or 
shoes  of  a  proper  shape.  Nature  has  been  unkind  enough 
to  give  us  feet  the  shape  of  which  is  not  in  accordance 
with  our  ideas  of  true  beauty  ;  therefore  we  seek,  by  aid  of 
the  followers  of  St.  Crispin,  to  bring  their  form  up  to  the 
ideal  standard  we  have  marked  out  for  ourselves." 

"  This,  then,  is  the  reason  why  the  shoe  pinches,  I  sup 
pose  ?  " 

"  Certainly,  my  love,"  I  answered ;  "  and  it  is  that  you 
may  avoid  such  an  infliction  in  future  that  I  have  sought 
for  and  found  a  sole  that  will  unquestionably  supersede  all 
others,  and  be  the  means  of  restoring  the  form  of  the  foot 
to  its  primeval  shape.  The  remedy  consists  simply  in 
making  the  sole  of  the  boot  correspond  exactly  to  the  shape 
of  the  natural  foot ;  and  when  this  is  once  adopted,  we 
shall  hear  no  more  complaints  of  feet  diseases." 

"  It  is  all  very  well  for  you,  Mr.  Gray,  whose  feet  are  by 
no  means  small,  to  speak  thus ;  but  do  you  think  the 
ladies  will  consent  to  put  such  an  ungracefully  shaped  shoe 
as  this  would  be  on  their  pretty  feet  ?  Could  you  find  a 


OUT   OF   TOWN.  103 

"bootmaker  in  the  land  who  would  make  one  ?  Would  any 
fashionable  bottier  of  Broadway,  think  you,  deign  to  place 
a  shoe  of  that  pattern  in  his  show-window  beside  the  tiny 
Cinderella  slippers,  the  dainty  dove-colored  gaiters,  the 
bridelike  white  satin  shoes,  or  the  strong,  thick-soled,  and 
healthful  Polish  boots,  that  lace  high  up  and  support  the 
ankle  better  than  any  other  ?  No  ;  I  '11  answer  No  a  hun 
dred  times." 

Mrs.  Gray's  excitement  was  curious  to  witness,  and  as 
she  rose  and  stood  before  me,  her  little  foot  —  incased  in  a 
toilet-slipper,  ornamented  with  an  exquisite  rosette — tapped 
significantly  upon  the  carpet,  as  if  to  assert  the  right  of 
dainty  feet  to  wear  any  shaped  shoes  they  could  get  into, 
provided  Fashion  stamped  them  with  its  sign-manual. 

"  Besides,  Mr.  Gray,"  she  continued,  "  what  do  you  know 
about  the  proper  shape  of  a  shoe  ?  How  long  since  you 
devoted  yourself  to  investigating  the  subject  ?  Ah  !  my  St. 
Crispin,  I  fear  you  know  very  little  in  regard  to  it." 

"  To  confess  the  truth,"  I  said,  taking  my  place  upon  the 
rug  before  the  fire,  "  my  knowledge  is  limited  to  a  little 
work,  entitled,  '  Why  the  Shoe  Pinches,'  recently  written 
by  a  learned  German  Professor  of  Anatomy  in  the  Univer 
sity  of  Zurich.  The  first  thing,  the  Professor  says,  to  be 
considered  is  the  great  toe." 

Mrs.  Gray  dropped  her  eyes  as  if  ignoring  that  useful 
member  of  the  pedal  family  ;  nevertheless  I  continued, 
growing  more  oratorical  as  I  proceeded,  as  follows  :  — 

"  This  toe  does  most  of  our  walking  for  us.  A  line 
drawn  from  the  point  of  this  toe  to  the  middle  of  its  root 
would,  he  says,  if  continued,  pass  to  the  middle  of  the 
heel,  but,  as  boots  and  shoes  are  made,  the  tendency  is  to 
twist  the  toe  out  of  this  line.  Therefore  he  claims  that 
the  shoe  should  be  made  to  suit  the  natural  position  of  the 
great  toe  as  well  as  the  little  toe  (which  has  hitherto  had 
a  disproportionate  share  of  the  attention  of  mankind). 
Boots,  if  made  on  principle,  ought  to  be  so  shaped  that 


104  OUT  OF  TOWN. 

when  a  pair  are  side  by  side,  with  the  heels  in  contact,  the 
inner  lines  of  the  front  part  of  the  soles  should  also  be  in 
contact  along  the  whole  edge  to  the  end  of  the  great  toes, 
so  that  if  the  toes  are  to  be  pointed  this  must  be  done  by 
taking  away  from  the  outside  alone.  Now,  then,"  I  con 
tinued,  dropping  the  Professor,  "  I  must  allow  that  this 
style  of  boot  would,  until  we  became  accustomed  to  it, 
seem  very  inelegant,  and  give  all  who  wore  them  the  ap 
pearance  of  turning  in  their  toes  ;  but  the  comfort  thereby 
gained  would  outweigh,  in  my  opinion,  appearances  which, 
after  all,  only  possess  a  fictitious  value." 

"  Well,"  my  wife  replied,  "  all  I  can  say,  Mr.  Gray,  is, 
that  if  you  can  get  the  fashionable  bootmakers  of  the  city 
to  introduce  Balmoral  boots,  or  any  other  kind  adapted  for 
ladies'  wear,  made  on  this  scientific  model,  why,  I  will 
promise  to  adopt  them,  but  with  this  understanding,  that 
you  will  first  make  your  appearance  in  boots  similarly  con 
structed." 

"  Certainly,  my  dear,"  I  replied  ;  "  it  is  but  right  that 
the  stronger  sex  should  take  the  lead  in  an  innovation  of 
this  kind ;  so  you  need  not  be  surprised  if  some  day  I  ap 
pear  wearing  this  new  style  of  boot." 

"  Remember,  Mr.  Gray,"  she  said,  "  that,  for  my  part,  I 
am  perfectly  satisfied  with  the  present  fashion,  and  would 
not  willingly  exchange  the  shape  of  my  stout  Balmorals, 
my  cloth  gaiters,  or  my  kid  slippers,  to  that  for  which  you 
have  been  pleading.  Every  age  and  nation  has  its  pecul 
iar  fashion  of  coverings  for  the  feet,  and  I  have  never 
seen  or  read  of  any  which  I  thought  better  adapted  for  the 
people  of  to-day  and  of  this  country  than  those  now  made 
and  worn.  Tell  me,  if  you  can,  of  any  superior,  or  indeed 
equal,  to  the  present  make." 

Thereupon  Mrs.  Gray  subsided  into  an  easy-chair,  thrust 
one  of  her  slippered  feet  beyond  the  hem  of  her  dress,  and 
apparently  studied,  with  the  air  of  a  connoisseur,  the  brill 
iant  rosette,  with  its  gold  buckle,  that  crowned  the  instep. 


OUT  OF  TOWN.  105 

"  There  is  a  deal  of  poetry,"  I  mused  aloud,  "  embalmed 
in  a  lady's  slipper ;  there  is  romance  in  a  pair  of  gaiters, 
and  love  has  before  this  lurked  in  a  satin  shoe.  It  was  an 
ancient  custom,  more  honored  in  the  breach  than  in  the 
observance,  to  cast  an  old  shoe  after  a  departing  bride  and 
groom  to  bring  them  luck.  Immense  good  fortune  befell 
one  Cinderella  because  she  chanced  to  have  a  small  foot, 
and  attended  a  ball  wearing  glass  slippers.  I  have  not 
heard  that  a  single  gentlewoman  who  was  at  the  ball  given 
to  the  Prince  of  Wales,  when  he  was  in  this  country,  pos 
sessed  the  wit  to  follow  Cinderella's  example.  Had  one 
done  so,  she  would,  doubtless,  at  this  moment  be  the  bride 
of  the  prince.  The  moral  is  plain :  if  you  wish  to  marry 
a  prince,  dance  in  glass  slippers  at  balls  given  in  his  honor. 
There  will  doubtless  be  another  prince  here  before  long, 
and  the  young  ladies  will  do  well  to  enclose  the  above 
moral  in  the  casket  of  memory." 

I  turned  my  eyes  toward  Mrs.  Gray  for  an  approving 
smile.  Alas  !  the  dear  woman  was  asleep ;  it  was  evident 
to  me  that  she  cared  nothing  about  princes,  and  the  thought 
consoled  me. 

"  Mrs.  Gray,"  I  said,  and  I  stirred  the  contents  of  a  gob 
let,  which  somehow  happened  to  be  before  me,  and  from 
which  a  lemony-whiskey-sugary  incense  arose,  with  a  spoon, 
causing  the  glass  to  jingle,  and  thereby  arousing  my  esti 
mable  spouse,  who  immediately  sat  erect  and  looked  at  me 
inquiringly,  as  if  she  were  not  certain  of  what  I  had  been 
talking.  "•  Mrs.  Gray,'  I  continued,  apparently  not  noticing 
that  she  had  been  asleep,  and  dissimulating  so  cleverly 
she  actually  was  convinced,  if  she  thought  of  it  all,  that 
she  had  been  awake  every  moment,  —  "Mrs.  Gray,"  I  re 
peated  for  the  third  time. 

"  Well,  I  hear  you,"  she  interrupted;  "that  is  the  fifth 
time  you've  uttered  my  name.  Children,  listen  to  your 
father.  Proceed." 

Dear   woman,   she   evidently    had    been   dreaming,   or 


106  OUT  OF  TOWN. 

else  the  contents  of  her  goblet  had  been  too  much  for 
her. 

"  Mrs.  Gray,"  I  uttered  again. 

"  Why,  dear  me  !  "  she  cried,  "  what  is  the  matter  ?  Go 
on." 

"  Mrs.  Gray,"  I  added,  impressively,  for  the  fifth  time. 

"  TVell !  "  she  said,  regarding  me  attentively. 

"  You  alluded  a  moment  since,"  I  said.  —  although  in 
reality  it  was  fifteen  minutes,  but  I  did  not  wish  her  to 
think  I  knew  she  had  been  asleep,  — "  to  the  different 
styles  of  coverings  for  the  feet  that,  in  various  ages  of  the 
world  and  among  various  nations,  have  been  in  vogue." 

"  Good  gracious  !  "  she  interrupted ;  "  I  said  that  in  the 
early  part  of  the  evening." 

I  paid  no  attention  to  her  remark,  and  proceeded. 

"  The  ancient  Egyptians,  as  we  learn  from  their  paint 
ings  and  sculpture,  wore  a  sort  of  skate  of  basket-work. 
The  Assyrians,  who  were  addicted  to  clambering  over 
rocky  mountains,  protected  their  feet  in  stout,  thick-soled 
buskins.  The  Persians  were  partial  to  slippers.  The 
Greek  women  wore  sandals,  but  the  men  liked  nothing  better 
than  to  go  barefoot ;  consequently  the  Romans,  who  had 
boots  and  shoes  for  all  classes  of  society,  kicked  them  out 
of  their  possessions,  and  became  the  actual  leaders  of  the 
world.  The  Greeks,  however,  may  be  said  to  have  carried 
their  shoes  on  their  legs,  as  they  wore  a  kind  of  skin-pro 
tector  ;  hence  the  epithet  of  '  the  well-greaved  Greeks.' 
The  Emperor  Caligula  performed  a  neat  feat  when  he 
adopted  for  his  own  use  the  little  spiked  shoe,  with  its 
thick  sole,  until  then  worn  only  by  the  common  soldier. 
The  Lacedemonians  revelled  in  red  shoes.  A  Roman  cit 
izen  usually  wore  black  shoes  on  simple  occasions,  and 
purple  ones  were  worn  by  coxcombs  on  occasion  of  balls 
being  given  to  princes  and  such  ilk.  The  ladies  of  Rome 
delighted  in  white  and  red  shoes.  The  chief  magistrates, 
also,  on  days  of  ceremony,  appeared  in  red  shoes.  The 


OUT  OF  TOWN.  107 

noble  classes  had  silver  crescents  on  their  shoes,  which 
served  as  buckles.  In  the  ninth  and  tenth  centuries  the 
greatest  princes  of  Europe  wore  wooden  shoes,  or  the 
upper  part  of  leather  and  the  sole  of  wood.  In  the  reign 
of  William  Rufus,  a  great  beau,  one  Robert,  surnamed 
Ramshorn,  introduced  a  curious  shoe,  with  long,  sharp 
points,  stuffed  with  tow,  and  twisted  like  a  ram's  horn.  In 
Richard  the  Second's  reign  the  points  of  these  shoes  were 
of  such  a  length  that  they  were  tied  to  the  knees  with 
gold  and  silver  chains.  In  Chaucer's  time  the  upper  part 
of  these  shoes  were  cut  in  imitation  of  church  windows, 
and  worn  by  many  unholy  persons.  In  1463  the  Parlia 
ment  of  England  prohibited  the  use  of  shoes  or  boots  with 
peaks  exceeding  two  inches  in  length,  under  severe  penal 
ties  ;  but  the  sentence  of  excommunication  was  necessary 
before  the  points  went  down  to  two  inches.  King  John 
had  exquisite  taste  in  boots,  as  we  read  that  he  ordered  a 
pair  for  his  royal  spouse  '  to  be  embroidered  with  circles.' 
Henry  the  Third  was  a  bit  of  a  dandy  in  his  chaussure,  for 
he  had  his  boots  powdered  with  lioncels.  Henry  the 
Seventh,  and  his  bluff  son  and  successor,  wore  shoes  so 
broad  that  they  obtained  the  name  of  '  ducks'  bills.'  In 
Elizabeth's  time  we  first  hear  of  shoes  being  made  right 
and  left.  This  fashion,  however,  went  out,  and  was  not 
revived  until  the  beginning  of  the  present  century.  Dur 
ing  the  past  fifty  years  we  have  not  materially  advanced  in 
comfortable  and  satisfactory  shoes.  I  expect,  however, 
that,  with  the  help  of  the  Zurich  professor,  the  people  will 
put  their  feet  only  into  such  boots  as  are  natural  in  shape, 
and,  consequently,  worn  with  ease  and  propriety." 

I  may  have  talked  on  in  this  fashion  for  an  hour  longer, 
though  I  cannot  tell,  for  I  had  been  reading  up  the  sub 
ject  from  encyclopaedias  and  other  books,  on  purpose  to 
surprise  Mrs.  Gray  with  my  knowledge  concerning  boots 
and  shoes  ;  but,  thinking  I  had  spoken  sufficiently,  I  turned 
to  her  and  asked  :  — 


108  OUT  OF  TOWN. 

"  And  now,  my  dear,  what  do  you  think  of  my  observa 
tions  ?  " 

Mrs.  Gray  was  again  asleep.  The  children,  too,  were 
locked  in  slumber.  I  looked  at  my  watch,  and  found  it  to 
be  twelve  o'clock. 

"  My  dear,"  I  said,  touching  her  gently  on  the  shoulder, 
"  the  meeting  of  the  club  for  this  evening  is  dissolved." 

Mrs.  Gray,  after  waking,  said,  "  Very  well."  And  the 
little  ones  when  aroused  naturally  commenced  to  cry. 


OUT  OF  TOWN.  109 


CHAPTER  XVITL 

Milking.  —  A  Difficult  Process.  —  Exodus  of  Servants. — A  Sweet  Disposi 
tion.  —  Down  in  the  Dust.  —  Flanderian  Oaths.  —  Defiant  Goat.  — 
Over  the  Palings.  —  Good  Exercise.  —  Billy-boy. —  Black-matan. —  Gin 
gerbread  and  a  Rope.  — Victory. — A  Right  and  a  Wrong  Side. — Cream. 

HAVE  learned  to  milk  my  goat.  Now,  if  there 
be  one  thing  more  than  another  which  a  man  who 
lives  in  the  country  and  keeps  a  cow  or  a  goat 
ought  to  know,  it  is  how  to  milk.  Not  that  I  would  advise 
him  to  follow  up  the  practice  every  day,  for  it  is  to  be  pre 
sumed  that  he  will  have  a  servant,  who  will,  as  a  rule, 
attend  to  this  business  ;  but  it  sometimes  happens  that 
servants  leave  you  without  warning,  or  go  to  "  wakes  "  or 
weddings,  and  don't  make  their  appearance  at  milking- 
time,  as  they  promised  to ;  and  then,  unless  you  are  your 
self  capable  of  milking,  you  might  as  well  be  without  the 
lacteal-yielding  animal ;  besides,  the  poor  creature  will 
suffer  if  she  be  neglected. 

Therefore  it  was,  —  after  having  been  placed  in  such  a 
quandary,  through  reason  of  my  two  servants  leaving  house 
affairs  to  take  care  of  themselves,  by  going  off  one  Sunday 
afternoon  and  failing  to  come  back  until  the  following  day, 
whereby  my  family  suffered  much  inconvenience,  dinner 
being  delayed  to  an  unreasonable  hour  at  night,  and  the 
goat  going  without  being  milked  until  much  beyond  her 
usual  time,  —  therefore  it  was,  I  say,  that  I  decided  to  learn 
the  art  of  milking. 

I  essayed  .to  milk  our  goat  on  the  occasion  to  which  I 
have  just  referred,  but  utterly  failed  of  accomplishing  my 
object  The  process  looked  to  me,  when  I  had  watched 


110  OUT  OF   TOWN. 

a  person  milking,  so  perfectly  simple,  that  I  supposed  it 
would  require  no  more  skill  than  it  would  to  pump  a  pail 
of  water.  In  the  first  place,  the  goat  would  n't  stand  still, 
but  kept  moving  about  in  a  most  unnecessary  manner ; 
swaying  first  to  one  side  and  then  to  the  other ;  then  back 
ing  with  great  rapidity  and  skill,  and  anon  making  a  for 
ward  movement,  accompanied  with  a  kick  of  her  hind-legs 
which  invariably  sent  the  pail  flying  behind  her,  and,  until 
I  became  a  little  posted  in  the  movement  and  prepared 
myself  for  it,  leaving  me  sprawling  on  the  turf.  Every 
time,  though,  that  I  got  hold  of  her  udders,  I  worked  and 
tugged  at  them  with  such  zeal  that  I  thought  either  the 
milk  must  flow  or  they  would  come  off.  But,  though  I 
squeezed  and  twisted  them  in  every  imaginable  fashion, 
not  a  drop  of  milk  rewarded  my  exertions.  I  tried  to  coax 
her  by  singing,  — 

"Nanny  goat,  nanny  goat,  give  down  your  milk,"  — 

a  little  poem  slightly  altered  from  one  addressed  to  "  cushy- 
cow,"  in  "  Mother  Goose's  Melodies  ; "  but  all  to  no  pur 
pose.  She  was  apparently  as  coy  about  disposing  of  her 
milk  as  if  she  were  only  a  kid  of  tender  age,  instead  of 
being  the  matronly  old  goat  she  was. 

Now,  I  have  a  very  sweet  disposition,  to  which  Mrs. 
Gray,  if  she  were  asked,  would  testify  ;  but  there  is  a  limit 
even  to  my  sweetness ;  and  when  that  goat  had  bothered 
me  for  about  an  hour,  and  I  had  become  heated  by  chasing 
her  around  the  garden,  and  got  my  garments  soiled  by 
falling  in  the  dust,  I  made  up  my  mind  that  any  further 
mild  proceedings  on  my  part,  in  connection  with  that  animal, 
would  be  entirely  thrown  away,  and  that  rigorous  measures 
ought  to  be  adopted  if  I  expected  to  accomplish  anything 
in  the  milking-line. 

So  I  swore  a  terrible  Flanderian  oath,  and,  shaking  my 
fist  at  the  animal,  gave  her  to  understand  that  her  fun  was 
played  out,  and  that  I  did  n't  intend  to  stand  any  more  of 
her  confounded  nonsense. 


OUT  OF  TOWN.  HI 

That  the  goat  understood  every  word  I  uttered,  I  am 
convinced ;  for  she  stood  still,  listening  quietly  to  what  I 
had  to  say,  until  I  had  finished,  when  she  put  her  head 
down  between  her  fore-legs,  shaking  it  defiantly  and  wag 
ging  her  brief  tail  in  a  most  provoking  manner.  She 
allowed  me,  moreover,  to  get  almost  to  her  without  stirring ; 
and  then,  with  a  bound  and  a  wickedly  sounding  bleat,  she 
dashed  past  me,  went  over  the  garden  palings,  and  scam 
pered  down  the  road. 

It  may  be  a  pleasure  as  well  as  good  exercise  for  an 
amiable  man,  of  a  quiet  Sunday  evening,  to  chase  a  goat 
along  a  dusty  highway,  but,  as  my  amiability  had  departed, 
I  came  to  the  conclusion  that  I  would  see  the  goat  drowned 
first,  before  I  would  follow  her,  notwithstanding  that  my 
wife  urged  me  to  do  so,  and  the  baby,  when  he  saw  his 
expectant  supper  go  flying  in  the  way  it  did  over  the  fence, 
set  up  a  most  pitiful  cry,  and  refused  to  be  comforted.  Still, 
I  felt  that  something  must  be  done,  but  was  in  a  quandary 
as  to  what  course  to  pursue.  So  I  bethought  me  of  the 
black-matan  Gumbo,  and,  whistling  him  out  of  his  cloisters 
in  the  barn,  where  he  still  leads  the  life  of  an  invalid,  1 
started  him  in  pursuit  of  the  goat.  He  moved  off  at  first 
briskly,  and  with  an  angry  yelp,  on  three  legs,  but  gave 
out  before  he  reached  the  goat,  who  stood  defiantlv  await- 

o  '  v 

ing  him  in  the  middle  of  the  road,  and  returned  limping 
and  with  drooping  tail  to  the  grateful  precincts  of  his 
hospital  quarters,  from  which  neither  threats  nor  coaxings 
could  again  induce  him  to  come  forth. 

Just  then  the  fool  of  the  village,  who  seems  to  possess 
more  good  sense  than  some  persons  who  are  not  called 
fools,  came  along,  and  when  he  saw  the  goat  far  down  the 
road,  where  she  had  halted  to  curvet  and  prance  like  a  gay 
war-horse,  and  perceived  me  standing  at  the  gate  looking 
at  her,  he  began  to  chuckle,  and,  in  a  peculiar  drawling 
fashion,  with  a  treble  voice,  he  said :  "  Guess  your  goat 's 
run  away  ag'in,  squire.  Why  don't  you  catch  it,  squire  ? " 


112  OUT  OF  TOWN. 

And  then  he  chuckled.     "  You  'd  better  go  to  the  pound 
ag'in  in  the  mornin',  squire,  an'  see  if  it 's  there." 

"  Hang  the  goat ! "  I  exclaimed. 

"  What'er  for,  squire  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Because,"  I  replied,  "  she  is  more  trouble  than  she  is 
worth." 

"  Guess  you  donno  much  about  goats,  squire  ;  do  yer  ?" 

"  No,"  I  said  ;  "  and  I  don't  want  to,  either.  Look  here, 
Billy-boy,  if  you  '11  catch  and  bring  that  goat  home  to  me, 
I  '11  give  you  a  quarter." 

"  Don't  want  yer  quarter,  squire,"  he  replied ;  "  want  a 
hunk  o'  gingerbread  an'  a  rope." 

Billy  was  promptly  supplied  with  a  piece  of  gingerbread 
and  a  rope,  and  immediately  set  off  to  capture  the  goat. 
He  went  shambling  along  down  the  road,  talking  witlessly 
to  himself,  until  he  passed  the  goat,  which  had  watched  him 
until  he  had  gone  by  with  suspicion,  when,  seemingly  re 
assured  that  he  intended  no  attack  on  her  liberty,  she 
commenced  curveting  and  dancing  upon  her  hind-legs  as 
before.  When  the  fool  had  gone  a  few  yards  past  her,  he 
sat  down  upon  a  stone  at  the  road-side,  and  began  to  eat 
his  gingerbread  and  chuckle  to  himself.  The  goat,  at 
tracted  by  his  manners,  gradually  drew  toward  him,  pranc 
ing  and  snuffing  about  him  until  she  was  nearly  within  his 
reach,  when  he  tossed  her  a  piece  of  gingerbread,  which 
she  seized  and  swallowed.  Then  he  tossed  her  another 
bit,  and,  at  last,  she  went  close  to  him  and  nibbled  it  from 
his  open  palm.  Thereupon  he  slipped  the  rope  over  her 
horns,  and,  drawing  it  into  a  knot,  led  her,  feeding  her  with 
a  bit  of  cake,  and  chuckling  loudly  as  he  walked  along, 
triumphantly  back  to  Woodbine  Cottage. 

Then  it  was  that,  under  the  instruction  of  the  village 
fool,  I  took  my  first  lesson  in  milking.  I  learned,  to  com 
mence  with,  that  there  was  a  right  as  well  as  a  wrong  side 
to  a  goat,  and  that  no  goat  which  has  any  respect  for  her 
self  will  permit  you  to  milk  her  from  the  wrong  side. 


OUT  OF   TOWN.  113 

Though,  why  one  side  is  not  as  good  as  another  I  cannot 
understand  ;  but  I  suppose  education  is  at  the  bottom  of  it 
Then  the  poor  fool  showed  me  how  to  draw,  in  a  proper 
manner,  the  milk  from  the  willing  goat ;  and,  after  a  few 
unsuccessful  attempts,  I  at  last  succeeded  in  obtaining 
about  a  pint  of  pure  milk.  From  that  day  onward  I  have, 
at  sundry  times,  followed  up  this  employment  with  en 
couraging  results,  and  I  am  inclined  to  believe  that  the 
cream  which  rises  on  the  milk  which  I  obtain  is  thicker 
and  richer  than  that  drawn  by  ordinary  individuals. 
8 


114  OUT   OF    TOWN. 


CHAPTER   XIX. 

Goodly  Company.  —  Not  dressed.  —  Lamb  and  Wine.  — Elia.  —  Bridget. 
Charley  Lamb's  Failings;  his  Works.  —  "La  Veuve  Clicquot."  — 
"  Golden  Wedding."  —  Native  Wines.  —  The  Banks  of  the  Ohio.  — 
My  Friend's  Verses.  —  "  The  Wine  King."  —  Longworth. 

will  have  a  goodly  company  around  us  this  even- 
ing,  my  dear,"  I  said  to  Mrs.  Gray,  as  we  drew 
our  chairs  toward  the  centre-table ;  "  a  brave 
company  of  wise  men  and  beautiful  women,  whose  like  we 
do  not  often  entertain." 

"  Why,  gracious !  Mr.  Gray,"  exclaimed  my  wife,  invol 
untarily  smoothing  her  dress  with  one  hand  and  arranging 
her  curls  with  the  other,  "  what  do  you  mean  ?  If  you 
have  invited  any  distinguished  persons  to  be  present  at  our 
club  this  evening,  I  shall  never  forgive  you.  Look  at  me." 
And  the  interesting  woman  rose  and  promenaded  to  and 
fro.  "  Am  I  dressed  to  receive  company  ?  " 

"  You  certainly  appear  to  be  dressed  sufficiently  well  for 
the  wife  of  a  quiet  man  like  myself,"  I  replied,  "albeit 
your  gown  is  not  of  moire  antique,  trimmed  with  costly 
lace,  nor  bestud  with  diamonds  ;  but  for  all  that  it  is  of 
fine  material,  and,  in  my  eyes,  shows  exquisite  taste  in  the 
wearer." 

"  You  are  a  flatterer,  my  dear ;  but,  tell  me,  who  do  you 
expect  here  ?  " 

"  None  other  than  those  now  present,"  I  replied,  bowing 
gravely  to  the  right  and  left. 

Mrs.  Gray  gazed  around  her  in  astonishment. 

"  My  dear,"  she  asked,  "  are  you  well  this  evening  ? 
There  is  no  one  present  but  you  and  I,  so  far  as  I  can 
perceive." 


IX   THE    UliKARY.     .1.  F.  WKIII. 


OUT  OF   TOWN.  115 

"  You  are  mistaken,  my  Jove,"  I  answered  ;  "  for  there  is 
Shakspeare  looking  down  upon  us  from  the  wall,  and  Mil 
ton,  Burns,  and  Byron  standing  in  the  corners  of  the  room. 
And  there  before  you,  in  that  costly  work,  appear  the  lovely 
features  of  many  of  the  women  of  the  South.  Besides, 
here,  at  my  elbow,  is  Lamb,  embalmed  in  beautiful  type 
and  on  tinted  paper,  forming  a  volume  which  it  would  have 
gladdened  his  heart  to  have  beheld.  Did  you  know,  my 
dear,  that  '  Elia '  was  one  of  the  few  English  writers  of  the 
present  century  whom  I  should  have  been  glad  to  have 
met?" 

"  I  did  not ;  but  I  can  easily  understand,  knowing  your 
tastes,  that  such  is  the  case.  But  why  do  you  like  Lamb  ?  " 

"  For  many  reasons.  Not  only  is  his  character  a  most 
lovable  one,  but  his  writings  are  filled  with  tender  thoughts, 
quaintly  yet  naturally  expressed.  His  humor  is  never  low ; 
his  wit,  while  sharp,  is  without  malice  ;  his  sentiment, 
though  pathetic,  is  never  mawkish  in  character ;  and  his 
show  of  learning  does  not  degenerate  into  pedantry. 
Gentle  in  his  manners  to  a  degree  that  would  be  pro 
nounced  effeminate  in  any  other  whose  life,  like  his,  was 
not  passed  as  the  nurse  and  comforter  of  his  sister  Bridget 
Elia,  he  winds  himself  into  our  hearts,  and  never  fails  of 
there  finding  a  welcome.  What  a  lesson  does  the  story  of 
his  life  teach  !  his  sacrifice  of  self  in  behalf  of  his  sister  ; 
his  yielding  for  her  sake  his  young  love  ;  his  patience,  his 
cheerfulness,  his  pure,  childlike  disposition,  and  his  un 
wavering  regard  for  all  his  friends,  —  these  things  teach  us 
a  lesson  which,  if  we  be  true  men  and  women,  will  prove 
that  Charles  Lamb  did  not  live  his  life  in  vain." 

"  You  speak  feelingly,  my  love.  But  had  he  no  unpleas- 
ing  traits  ?  Was  he  perfect  ?  " 

"  Alas !  my  dear,"  I  replied,  "  we  are  none  of  us  perfect. 
Perhaps  it  is  better  for  us  that  we  are  imperfect,  —  else 
we  had  no  need  of  a  Saviour.  Charles  Lamb  had  his  fail 
ings  ;  becai1  se  he  was  weak  at  times  we  are  enabled,  per- 


116  OUT  OF  TOWN. 

haps,  the  better  to  understand  and  appreciate  him.  There 
could  exist  no  sympathy  between  us,  if  it  were  not  that  he 
possessed  mortal  weaknesses.  My  dear,  let  us  think  of 
Lamb  only  as  '  the  gentle-hearted  Elia.'  Have  you  read 
his  entire  works  ?  " 

"  I  believe  so,"  she  answered ;  "  I  am  sure  of  it,  if  they 
be  comprised  in  his  '  Essays  of  Elia,'  his  '  Rosamund  Gray,' 

his  tragedy  of  '  John  Woodvil,'  his  farce  of  '  Mr.  H ,' 

and  sundry  poems." 

"  And  you  have  never  read  his  letters  and  final  memo 
rials,  edited  by  Sergeant  Talfourd  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  Never,"  she  replied. 

"  Then,  my  dear,  allow  me  to  say,"  I  continued,  "  that 
you  do  not  yet  know  the  loveliness  of  his  life.  You  will 
find  in  these  four  volumes,"  I  added,  after  a  pause,  placing 
my  hand  on  the  books,  "  the  complete  works  of  the  dear 
and  quaint  old  writer,  Charles  Lamb.  And  now,  my  love, 
with  your  permission,  we  will  drink  to  his  memory  in  a 
glass  of  wine." 

"  Certainly,  Mr.  Gray  ;  what  kind  do  you  desire  ?  Will 
you  have  '  La  Veuve  Clicquot,'  or  the  '  Golden  Wedding  ? ' ' 

"  Oh,  we  will  take  the  '  Clicquot '  first,  and,  while  the 
bead  is  on,  I  will  sing  you  a  song  of  mine,  and  then  we 
will  have  the  '  Golden  Wedding  ; '  for,  though  this  be  a  new 
brand,  its  name  will  serve  to  remind  us  of  the  fifty  years 
of  unceasing,  watchful  love  and  care  given  by  Charley 
Lamb  to  his  sister  Mary." 

And  then  I  sung  the  following  song  in  praise  of  "  La 
Veuve  Clicquot "  :  — 

I  love  the  wine 
Pressed  from  the  vine 
That  in  la  belle  France  grows  ; 
It  sparkles  bright, 
With  rosy  light, 
And  is  la  veuve  Clicquot's. 

The  widow  Clicquot ! 
Fill  high  —  drain  low : 
Vive  la  veuve  Clicquot ! 


OUT  OF  TOWN.  117 

Let  poets  sing 
Of  maids  and  spring, 
And  western  wine  that  flows ; 
Autumn  for  me, 
And  widows  free, 
With  wine  of  veuve  Clicquot's ! 
The  widow  Clicquot ! 
Fill  high  —  drain  low  : 
Vive  la  veuve  Clicquot ! 

While  lovers  kiss, 
And  dream  of  bliss, 
And  speak  in  whispers  low, 
My  sweetest  dreams 
Shall  be  of  Rheims, 
And  of  la  veuve  Clicquot. 

The  widow  Clicquot ! 
Fill  high  —  drain  low : 
Vive  la  veuve  Clicquot ! 

The  wine  I  praise 
Embalms  my  days, 
And  strength  and  joy  bestows  ; 
It  warms  my  heart, 
Bids  grief  depart, 
And  is  la  veuve  Clicquot's. 

The  widow  Clicquot ! 
Fill  high  —  drain  low  : 
Vive  la  veuve  Clicquot  I 

No  other  wine 
Is  half  so  fine,  — 
No  vines  that  vineyard  shows 
Such  grapes  can  bear, 
Whose  vintage  rare 
Will  equal  veuve  Clicquot's. 
The  widow  Clicquot ! 
Fill  high  —  drain  low  : 
Vive  la  veuve  Clicquot  1 

Then,  when  I  drain 

This  rich  champagne 

From  goblet  that  o'erflows,  — 


118  OUT  OF   TOWN. 

Or  guest,  or  host,  — 
One  health  I  '11  toast, 
'T  is  hers  —  la  veuve  Clicquot's,  — - 
The  widow  Clicquot ! 
Fill  high  —  drain  low  : 
Vive  la  veuve  Clicquot ! 

"  Are  you  aware,  my  dear,"  I  asked,  as  Mrs.  Gray,  hav 
ing  changed  the  wine  and  glasses  before  me,  resumed  her 
chair,  "  that  there  is  a  prospect  of  our  having,  in  a  few 
years,  a  superior  red  wine  of  native  manufacture  equal  to 
Burgundy  ?  " 

Mrs.  Gray,  not  being  aware  of  it,  shook  her  head  to 
signify  as  much. 

"  Now,  red  wine,"  I  continued,  "  is  much  needed,"  — 
Mrs.  Gray  this  time  nodded  assent,  —  "  and,  in  this  con 
nection,  a  friend  of  mine,  who  lives  out  West  among  the 
vineyards  that  line  the  banks  of  the  Ohio,  has  ventured  a 
verse  or  two  on  the  subject.  I  have  not  the  poem  before 
me,  but,  as  near  as  I  can  recollect,  he  sings :  — 

'  Our  Bacchus-god  is  pale  as  yet,  — 

A  wreath  of  lilies  crowns  his  head, 
Where  not  a  single  rose  is  set, 
Nor  gleams  his  flag  with  bars  of  red.' 

Again,"  I  added  :  — 

"  '  The  wine  that 's  white  is  like  the  light 

Through  crystal  air  of  morning  shed  ; 
But  all  of  evening's  soft  delight, 

And  warmth,  and  love,  are  in  the  red.' 

And,  once  more,  in  view  of  the  successful  consummation," 
I  continued :  — 

"  '  Lo  !  when  the  sun,  at  evening's  close, 

Encouched  on  ruby  clouds  shall  sink, 
And  to  his  soft  and  sweet  repose 
The  merry  millions  fill  and  drink  ; 

"  '  No  lifted  cup  in  all  the  West 

But  shall. reflect  with  deepened  hue 
The  rosy  smile  wherewith  he  blest 
Their  revels  when  he  bade  adieu.'  " 


OUT   OF   TOWN.  119 

"  Beautiful,  my  dear,  very  beautiful,"  exclaimed  Mrs. 
Gray,  as  I  finished.  "  Let  us  toast  their  author."  And 
we  did  so. 

"  And  now,  Mrs.  Gray,"  I  said,  "  I  will  sing  to  you  some 
other  verses  of  my  own,  —  not  so  good  as  the  lines  I  just 
repeated ;  but,  as  they  are  mine,  you  will,  I  trust,  not  criti 
cize  them  too  severely."  Thereupon  I  assumed  my  favor 
ite  place  upon  the  rug  before  the  fire,  and  in  a  not  unmusi 
cal  voice,  I  hope,  entranced  Mrs.  Gray  with  the  following, 
entitled  — 

THE   WINE-KING. 

I  SING  in  a  goodly  measure 

The  rhyme  of  the  twining  vine, 
That  yields  its  autumn  treasure 

Of  pure  and  sparkling  wine  ; 

Of  the  luscious  grape  that  blushes 

Where  western  waters  glide  ; 
Of  the  rosy  flood  that  gushes 

From  presses  deep  and  wide  ; 

And  the  king  who  caused  to  flourish, 

To  blossom  and  to  bear, 
The  vine  whose  grapes  shall  nourish, 

Whose  wine  shall  conquer  care. 

Then  with  clusters  white  and  yellow, 

Purple,,  and  black,  and  red, 
God-Bacchus,  the  jolly  fellow, 

Should  crown  the  wine-king's  head. 

For  there  is  no  wine  surpasses 

This  of  the  golden  West ; 
'T  is  the  wine  to  toast  the  lasses, 

And  cheer  the  welcome  guest. 

Then  give  to  the  wine-king  glory, 

Shout  songs  of  praise  and  mirth, 
Nor  ever  forget  his  story, 

But  long  recall  his  worth. 


120  OUT  OF   TOWN. 

"  There,  Mrs.  Gray,"  I  exclaimed,  rubbing  my  hands  to 
gether  in  a  congratulatory  manner,  as  I  concluded  the 
song,  "  what  do  you  think  of  that  ?  " 

"  I  think,  my  dear,"  she  replied,  "  you  will  never  be  a 
great  singer,  nor  a  great  poet" 

"Mrs.  Gray,"  I  said,  very  decidedly,  "the  meeting  of 
the  club  is  adjourned." 


WATCHING   THE   ECUl'SK.     .1.  (!.  BROWN 


OUT  OF  TOWN.  121 


CHAPTER  XX. 

An  Early  Eclipse.—  Smoked  Glass.  —At  Breakfast.— What  my  little  Ones 
and  Myself  talk  about.  —  Great  Travellers.  —  Ballooning.  —  Re-dressing. 
Smut  and  Purity.  —  Little  Cherubs.  —  All  Day.  —  An  Observatory.  —  A 
Telescope.  —  Miss  Floy  complains;  her  Indignation.  —  Sights  through  a 
Tin  Telescope. —  "  So  high."  — Spots  on  the  Fingers  and  on  the  Heart. — 
Miss  Floy  correct. 

had  an  eclipse  in  our  village  the  other  day.  It 
commenced,  I  think,  about  sunrise,  for  the  chil 
dren,  I  observed,  were  engaged  in  smoking,  over 
a  candle,  a  bit  of  glass,  at  that  early  hour  of  the  morning, 
and  immediately  thereafter  proceeded  to  injure  their  eyes 
by  looking  sunward  through  it.  They  must  have  been  very 
industrious,  for  I  noticed,  when  they  came  to  the  breakfast- 
table,  a  half-hour  afterward,  that  each  one's  nose  had  a 
smutty  spot  on  the  end  of  it ;  that  his  fingers  were  black 
ened  and  his  clean  clothes  soiled.  Thereupon  I  made  up 
my  mind  that  eclipses  before  breakfast  were  nuisances.  I 
was  more  than  ever  convinced  of  this  when  my  wife  ordered 
the  nurse  to  take  the  little  ones  from  the  table  and  re-wash 
and  re-dress  them.  But  there  was  no  redress  for  the 
annoyance  which  this  proceeding  caused  me.  The  carrying 
away  of  those  children  destroyed  the  pleasant  bearing  of 
the  breakfast-table  ;  for  as  I  had  already  filled  their  several 
plates  with  food,  it  did  not  seem  to  me  exactly  the  thing  to 
remove  them  from  the  table  on  account  of  a  smutty  finger 
or  two,  and  before  they  had  partaken  of  it.  Besides,  I 
missed  the  prattles  of  the  little  ones,  who,  at  breakfast, 
usually  give  me  the  programme  of  the  coming  day's  pro 
ceedings,  as  far  as  they  are  individually  concerned,  and 


.122  OUT  OF   TOWN. 

which  is  sometimes  of  the  most  wonderful  description. 
They  are  much  given  to  going  on  long  journeys,  and  will 
obtain  my  mature  advice  as  to  the  best  and  most  expeditious 
manner  of  going  to  the  far-off  places  which  they  propose  to 
visit  while  I  am  gone  to  the  city.  They  have  travelled  a 
good  deal,  recently,  in  the  balloon,  'which  they  had  heard 
me  speak  of  as  being  moored  near  the  Central  Park,  and 
in  which  I  had  nearly  been  seduced  into  making  an  as 
cension  by  my  literary  young  lady,  who  held  out  remarkable 
temptations  as  inducements  for  me  to  go  up  with  her  some 
fine  afternoon.  I  made  up  my  mind,  however,  that  rail 
roading  on  the  Harlem  route  was  as  much  in  the  way  of 
venturousness  as  I  cared  at  present  about  undertaking ; 
and,  so  I  quietly  replied  to  Miss  Floy,  when  she  importuned 
me  to  accompany  her,  "  Sufficient  for  the  day  is  the  evil 
thereof/'  But  my  little  ones  took  the  risks,  and  many  a 
time  —  as  they  gayly  informed  me  at  the  breakfast-table 
they  were  about  to  accomplish  as  soon  as  I  had  taken  my 
departure  —  undertook  long  journeys  to  Jerusalem,  and 
Bagdad,  and  Mesopotamia,  and  Hong  Kong,  and  other 
places  of  renown,  in  that  balloon.  And  then,  when  I  came 
home  at  evening,  they  would  give  me  an  animated  account 
of  their  visit. 

On  the  present  occasion,  however,  I  was  obliged  to  go  to 
town  without  being  informed  where  my  little  ones  intended 
spending  the  day ;  for,  although  they  retired  from  the  table 
in  good  order  and  without  any  special  outbreak,  yet,  when 
they  reached  the  nursery,  I  judged,  from  the  tumult  that 
ensued,  that  war  had  been  declared  between  them  and  the 
nursery  maid,  and  it  would  be  some  time  before  they  found 
their  way  back  to  the  breakfast-table.  And  I  was  correct ; 
for,  although  I  lingered  at  the  table  so  long  that  I  was  in 
danger  of  losing  my  usual  train,  not  a  glimpse  of  my  little 
ones  did  I  again  obtain. 

Now,  if  I  had  my  own  way,  —  which,  indeed,  I  seldom 
do, —  I  should  have  kept  those  children  at  the  table.  What 


OUT  OF  TOWN.  123 

matters  a  speck  or  two  of  black  on  the  outside  of  the  body, 
so  long  as  the  spirit  within  is  white  and  unsullied  ?  Why 
take  exceptions  to  garments  a  little  soiled,  when  we  know 
that  the  wearers  would  assume  the  spotless  robes  of  angels 
were  they  to  pass  from  earth  to  heaven  ? 

I  said  something  like  this  to  Mrs.  Gray,  as  the  children 
disappeared  from  the  breakfast-room  ;  but  she,  being  a 
trifle  over-nice  and  somewhat  particular,  replied  that  what 
I  had  said  sounded  very  pretty,  but  that,  for  her  part,  she 
liked  to  see  the  children  tidy  and  clean  when  they  came  to 
the  table  ;  and  as  for  their  being  angelic,  and  prepared  to 
assume  the  robes  of  which  I  spoke,  she  hoped  it  was  so ; 
but  that,  judging  from  the  uproar  they  were  then  making, 
it  seemed  to  her  more  probable  that  they  were  preparing 
themselves  to  put  on  robes  just  the  opposite  of  those  which 
angels  wear. 

As  this  was  the  most  severe  language  I  had  ever  heard 
my  wife  utter,  I  declared  myself  to  be  quite  shocked,  and, 
as  my  train  was  about  due,  said  I  would  not  remain  any 
longer  at  a  table  where  such  sweet  cherubs  as  were  our 
boys  and  girls  were  wanting.  Then,  hoping  that  Heaven 
would  give  her  a  more  amiable  disposition  before  I  came 
back,  I  took  my  leave  and  departed. 

I  think  the  eclipse  must  have  lasted,  in  the  vicinity  of 
Woodbine  Cottage,  all  day  ;  for  when  I  came  home,  late 
in  the  afternoon,  I  found  the  children  very  much  more  be 
grimed  with  lampblack  than  they  were  at  the  breakfast- 
table,  still  engaged  in  looking  at  the  sun.  My  eldest  boy 
had  erected  an  observatory  in  the  garden,  and  had  a  tele 
scope  in  active  operation.  He  had  made  a  good  many  pins, 
he  informed  me,  by  letting  his  brothers  and  sisters  look 
through  it,  at  five  pins  a  sight. 

For  the  benefit  of  little  boys  who  might  like  to  know 
how  to  manufacture  telescopes,  I  will  state  that  it  was  con 
structed  mainly  of  a  tin  trumpet  or  horn  and  a  piece  of 
smoked  glass.  He  had  made  an  unsuccessful  attempt  in 


124  OUT  OF   TOWN. 

the  telescope  line,  I  was  informed  by  his  mother,  with  the 
glass  chimney  belonging  to  our  evening  lamp,  but  failed, 
because  he  accidentally  broke  it.  Miss  Floy,  too,  com 
plained  that  in  his  scientific  'operations  he  had  purloined 
her  eye-glasses,  and,  in  smoking  them,  had  heedlessly 
allowed  the  flame  of  the  candle  to  play  upon  their  tortoise- 
shell  rims,  which  had  thereby  been  greatly  damaged. 
Wherefore  she  prayed  that  he  might  be  punished.  I  said 
he  should  be,  and  that  she  might  inflict  it. 

"  You  may  read  aloud  to  him,"  I  said,  "  a  scene  from 
your  new  play  ;  but  if  you  don't  regard  that  as  a  sufficient 
punishment,  why,  you  can  read  to  him  two.  And  that,  I 
am  certain,  will  be  enough  to  deter  him  from  ever  again 
robbing  you  of  your  glasses." 

Thereupon  Miss  Floy  became  quite  indignant,  and  gave 
me  to  understand  that  she  regarded  me  as  a  mean  man. 
She  added,  moreover,  that  my  children,  owing  to  my  in 
dulgence,  were  going  to  ruin,  and  that  I  was  not  fitted  to 
be  a  father.  Solomon,  she  continued,  knew  a  thing  or  two 
about  the  management  of  children,  which,  if  I  were  wise, 
I  would  adopt.  She  despaired,  though,  of  ever  hearing  me 
speak  or  seeing  me  do  other  than  acts  of  foolishness. 

"Which  sentence  I  pronounced  ungrammatical,  and  said 
that  it  was  in  keeping,  however,  with  much  of  the  language 
to  be  found  in  the  various  acts  of  her  play. 

This  provoked  her  past  all  bearing,  and  she  retired  to 
her  own  apartment  in  great  vexation  of  spirit,  where  she 
had  a  good  crying-spell,  which  calmed  her,  and  enabled  her 
to  come  down  to  dinner  in  the  most  charming  of  gowns, 
and  as  merry  and  cheery  as  a  robin. 

I  do  not  suppose  that  anybody  ever  saw  half  such  strange 
things  at  an  eclipse  as  my  little  ones  did.  By  the  aid  of 
the  tin  telescope  the  man  in  the  moon  was  brought  home, 
as  it  were,  to  their  very  doors  ;  and  as  for  spots  on  the  sun, 
they  saw  them  so  distinctly  that  they  could  almost  have  put 
their  fingers  upon  them.  The  littlest  chap,  who  has  n't  cut 


OUT  OF  TOWN.  125 

his  teeth  yet,  and  lives  almost  exclusively  on  milk-punch 
and  such  like  beverages,  gave  me  to  understand,  in  his 
way,  that  he  saw  rather  more  than  double,  and  counted 
several  moons  and  suns  as  big  as  his  head  and  "  so  high." 

After  all,  I  think  I  was  mistaken  in  saying  that  an  eclipse 
before  breakfast  is  a  nuisance.  I  did  n't  know,  when  I  said 
it,  that  it  was  going  to  last  all  day,  and  be  such  a  source 
of  pleasure  to  the  little  folks.  I  even  begin  to  wish  nqw 
that  there  could  be  an  eclipse  every  day,  though  I  suppose, 
in  that  case,  the  children  would  not  be  as  much  delighted 
with  it  as  they  now  are,  and  that  smoked  glass  and  tin 
.  telescopes  would  soon  be  at  a  discount. 

"  Well,  well,"  I  said  to  my  wife,  after  the  little  ones  had 
told  me  all  they  could  about  the  eclipse,  and  how  much 
they  had  enjoyed  it,  "  who  would  n't  be  a  child  again,  and 
find  pleasure  in  eclipses  and  smoked  glass  !  " 

"  But  they  do  get  themselves  terribly  smutty,"  said  my 
wife. 

"  True  ;  but  it  will  easily  wash  off/'  I  replied.  "  Now,  I 
saw  men  down  in  Wall  Street  and  thereabouts,  this  fore 
noon,  who  wouldn't  have  taken  a  smoked  glass  in  their 
hands,  for  fear  of  soiling  their  fingers,  for  a  great  deal ; 
and  yet,  I  tell  you,  those  same  men  had  blacker  spots  upon 
their  hearts  —  and  which  can  never  be  rubbed  off —  than 
they  could  have  got  upon  their  fingers  if  they  had  handled 
all  the  smoked  glass  which  has  been  used  to-day." 

"  Well,  what  of  it  ?  "  asked  Miss  Floy. 

"  What  of  it  ?  "  I  echoed ;  "  why,  really,  nothing,  except 
that  I  'd  rather  be  like  one  of  these  little  ones  than  one  of 
those  bad  men." 

"  Which  desire,  however  laudable,"  said  Miss  Floy, 
maliciously,  "  can  never  come  to  pass  ;  the  longer  you  go 
among  those  '  bad  men '  the  more  like  them,  and  the  less 
like  these  little  ones,  will  you  become." 

And  I  think  Miss  Floy,  for  once,  is  correct 


126  OUT  OF  TOWN. 


CHAPTER  XXL 

Family  Shopping.  —  Obliging  your  Neighbors.  —  "  Something."  —  An 
Elderly  Female.  —  An  Innocent  Orphan.  —  A  Monster.  —  "  Shame  ! 
Shame !  "  — A  Blue-eyed  Young  Woman.  —  Who  '11  hold  the  Baby  V  — 
All  Aboard.  —  Tilly  Slowboy.  —  An  empty  Seat. —  My  Friend  Opposite. 
"  Banbury  Cross."  —  A  Surprise.  —  My  Fat  Old  Lady.  —  A  resident 
Mother-in-law.  —  Smithers. 

one  lives  in  the  country  and  goes  to  town  every 
day,  but  comes  home,  semi-occasionally,  laden  with 
bundles.  He  is  expected  to  do  a  great  deal  of 
family  shopping,  and  there  is  little  unprocurable  in  the 
country  which  he  is  not,  at  least,  asked  to  procure  in  the 
city.  Some  persons  are  always  to  be  seen  carrying  baskets 
which  are  empty  in  the  morning  and  full  at  night.  A  black- 
leather  carpet-bag,  however,  is  preferable,  as  it  conveys  the 
impression  to  the  uninitiated  that  you  are  travelling.  To 
be  sure,  there  are  many  articles  you  are  called  upon  to 
obtain  in  town  which  you  cannot  get  into  a  carpet-bag,  or 
even  a  basket,  for  that  matter,  and  which  you  are  obliged 
to  carry  in  your  arms.  For  instance,  I  was  asked,  a  short 
time  since,  by  a  neighbor — one  who  is  perpetually  tor 
menting  me  to  do  this  and  obtain  that  for  him  in  town  — 
to  bring  out  for  his  wife  something  which  would  be  delivered 
to  me  at  the  depot,  so  that  I  would  have  little  trouble  in 
the  matter  except  to  take  charge  of  it  on  the  cars,  and 
that  he  would  be  at  the  station  when  the  train  arrived,  to 
relieve  me  of  it  there.  This  proceeding  was  so  much  more 
considerate  than  was  usual  on  his  part  that  I  promised, 
unreservedly,  to  oblige  him ;  nor  did  I  even  inquire  what 
the  "  something  "  was  which  he  desired  me  to  bring  to  him. 


OUT  OF   TOWN.  127 

He  said  further  that  an  elderly  female,  dressed  in  black, 
whom  I  would  find  in  the  ladies'  sitting-room,  would  hand 
it  to  me,  and  he  hoped  I  would  experience  little  trouble 
with  it. 

When,  therefore,  I  went,  in  the  afternoon,  to  the  depot, 
and  into  the  Indies'  sitting-room,  I  had  no  difficulty  in  dis 
covering  several  elderly  females,  but  none  of  them  had  the 
bundle  or  package  I  was  seeking  for.  I  looked  at  each  of 
them  successively,  and  was  on  the  point  of  turning  away 
empty-handed,  when  the  elderliest  of  the  said  elderlies, 
dressed  in  the  rustiest  of  black  bombazines,  rose  from  the 
corner  in  which  she  was  sitting,  and,  calling  me  by  name, 
asked  if  I  had  promised  to  take  charge  of  a  baby  for  Mr. 
Smithers.  As  Smithers  was  the  name  of  my  neighbor,  and 
as  this  was  evidently  the  elderly  female  of  whom  he  spoke, 
I  felt  satisfied  that  the  "  something  "  I  had  promised  to  take 
charge  of  was  the  infant  she  carried  in  her  arms. 

With  that  quickness,  however,  which  is  characteristic  of 
the  Grays,  I  immediately  denied  the  soft  impeachment,  but 
confessed  that  I  did  promise  to  take  out  a  bundle  for  said 
Smithers.  Then  it  was  that  the  elderly  female  displayed 
her  eloquence  and  diplomatic  powers. 

"  Is  it  possible,"  she  exclaimed,  in  the  most  tragic  of 
tones  and  manners,  "  that  any  one  who  pretends  to  be  a 
man,  and  is  a  father,  would  refuse  to  take  charge,  for  little 
more  than  half  an  hour,  of  a  young  and  innocent  orphan 
babe,  a  girl  at  that,  just  recovering  from  a  severe  attack 
of  measles,  especially  when  he  had  promised  a  good  Chris 
tian  man,  whose  wife  intends  to  adopt  as  her  own  this 
sweet  child,  that  he  would  do  so  without  fail  ?  Such  con 
duct,  I  say,  is  atrocious,  and  I,  for  one,  would  only  believe 
savages  capable  of  such  an  act.  None  but  a  monster  would 
be  so  cruel-hearted." 

I  endeavored  to  explain  to  the  spectators  assembled  in 
the  sitting-room  that  when  I  promised  to  take  something 
to  my  neighbor  I  had  no  idea  that  it  was  to  be  a  live  baby, 


128  OUT  OF  TOWN. 

and  that,  if  I  had  known  it,  I  should,  as  I  now  did,  most 
certainly  have  declined  obliging  him.  It  was  bad  enough, 
I  said,  to  travel  with  one's  own  baby,  even  when  you  have 
a  nurse  to  attend  to  it ;  but  when  a  strange  baby  is  cast 
into  your  arms,  it  was  simply  abominable.  Besides,  I  had 
a  bundle  of  my  own  to  carry,  which,  as  they  could  perceive, 
was  not  inconsiderable  in  size,  and  which  really  required 
all  my  attention. 

Thereupon  the  half-dozen  elderly  females  in  black,  and 
the  younger  females  in  colors,  therein  assembled,  cried, 
u  Shame  !  shame  !  "  and  my  particularly  elderly  party  ex 
claimed,  striking  an  attitude,  and  holding  the  infant  aloft 
as  if  she  were  going  to  dash  it  down  upon  the  floor,  unless 
I  would  consent  to  take  it,  "  Cruelty,  thy  name  is  man." 

"  Oh,  as  to  that,"  I  said,  "  I  won't  deny  it ;  but  I  '11  be 
hanged  if  I  '11  consent  to  carry  that  infant  out  to  Fordham." 
And  I  resolutely  buttoned  my  coat  up  about  the  throat,  and 
turned  toward  the  door. 

Straightway  the  females  surrounded  me,  and  both  young 
and  old,  in  their  sweetest  and  softest  spoken  words,  began 
entreating  me  to  reconsider  my  decision,  and  take  that 
innocent  little  babe  to  its  expectant  friends.  One  blue- 
eyed  maid  said  she  would  help  me  take  care  of  it,  and,  as 
she  spoke,  she  smiled  on  me  in  a  most  captivating  manner. 

Now,  if  there  's  one  thing  more  than  another  which  I 
cannot  resist,  it  is  a  pair  of  blue  eyes ;  and  when  is  added 
to  this  a  smile  which  would  set  a  bachelor  crazy,  I  feel  very 
much  as  if  it  were  all  up  with  me,  and  my  only  resource  is 
an  honorable  capitulation.  I  do  not  think,  however,  that, 
in  the  present  case,  I  should  have  given  in  had  I  not, 
through  some  hocus-pocus  operation  of  the  elderly  female, 
found  myself  in  actual  possession  of  the  baby,  without 
knowing  how  the  change  from  her  arms  to  mine  had  been 
effected,  and  only,  indeed,  recognized  the  fact  as  incon 
trovertible  when  I  saw  the  aforesaid  female  disappearing 
from  my  sight  in  the  distance. 


OUT  OF  TOWN.  129 

I  am  not  a  man  who  thinks  it  undignified  or  who  is 
ashamed  to  carry  a  bundle  or  a  basket ;  but,  I  confess,  I 
did  feel  a  trifle  shy  about  entering  the  cars  with  that  baby 
in  my  arms.  I  tried  to  get  the  blue-eyed  young  woman  to 
carry  her ;  but  she  excused  herself  by  saying  that  she  was 
not  strong  enough  to  do  so.  Just  then,  when  I  had  fully 
decided  to  make  a  virtue  of  necessity,  I  spied  my  savage 
literary  friend,  to  whom  I  called,  and,  stating  the  strange 
position  in  which  I  was  placed,  requested  him  to  hold  the 
infant  for  me  a  moment  while  I  bought  my  ticket. 

To  my  infinite  regret  he  politely  but  firmly  refused  to 
do  so,  and  said  he  would  buy  a  ticket  for  me.  I  afterward 
tried  to  have  several  of  my  acquaintances  take  that  baby, 
but  they  invariably  refused,  to  a  man,  and  it  was  not  until 
the  conductor  shouted  "  All  aboard  ! "  that  I  mustered 
sufficient  courage  to  enable  me  to  enter  the  cars  with  that 
orphan  in  my  arms.  • 

Of  course,  the  seats  in  the  forward  cars  were  all  occupied, 
and  I  was  obliged  to  pass  through  the  entire  train,  until  I 
reached  the  last  car,  before  I  could  obtain  a  seat.  I  did 
not,  I  must  acknowledge,  attract  as  much  attention,  during 
my  promenade,  as.  I  had  anticipated.  Not  more  than  a 
dozen  persons  gave  any  heed  to  me  or  my  charge.  Indeed, 
I  managed  the  matter  so  adroitly  that  I  passed  through 
the  first  car  without  attracting  a  single  observation.  I 
purposely  carried  the  babe  head  downward,  so  that  she 
looked  like  a  bundle  of  dry  goods.  I  think  this  inversion 
of  the  child  produced  a  slight  strangulation,  which  pre 
vented  her  from  crying  aloud  for  a  few  minutes,  but  from 
which  she  recovered  when  I  was  about  half  way  through 
the  second  car,  and  from  there  on,  until  the  last  car  was 
reached,  she  made  the  most  insufferable  noise  of  which  a 
child  is  capable.  Perhaps  I  rather  added  to  the  intensity 
of  this  outcry  by  allowing,  a  la  Tilly  Slowboy,  that  infant's 
head  to  come  in  contact  with  the  corners  of  sundry  seats 
and  the  sides  of  several  doorways  as  I  went  along.  The 
9 


130  OUT  OF  TOWN. 

louder  the  child  cried  the  more  nervous  I  became,  and  by 
the  time  I  had  found  a  vacant  seat,  I  was  completely  ex 
hausted,  and  felt  exceedingly  like  sending  my  neighbor 
Smithers  and  his  wife,  the  elderly  female  in  black,  the 
managers  of  the  orphan  asylum,  and  the  poor  little  brat 
herself,  to  that  place  where  the  chief  employment  is  pre 
sumed  to  be  the  gnashing  of  teeth. 

Of  course,  the  blue-eyed  young  woman  deserted  me  long 
before  I  reached  my  car,  a  nice  young  man  having  offered 
her  a  place  at  his  side  when  we  passed  through  the  first 
car.  So  I  found  myself  at  last,  with  a  big  bundle  and  a 
baby,  unsupported  by  a  friend,  in  one  of  the  new  style  of 
rail-cars,  the  seats  of  which,  like  those  of  the  city  horse- 
cars,  are  opposite  each  other,  and  extend  on  each  side  its 
entire  length.  To  be  sure,  my  savage  literary  friend  sat 
nearly  opposite  to  me  ;  but  he  was  apparently  absorbed  in 
reading  the  "  Evening  Post,"  and  paid  no  attention  to  the 
signs  I  made  for  him  to  come  across  to  me.  I  could  see, 
though,  that  he  was  watching  me  from  over  the  top  of  the 
paper,  and  every  once  in  a  while  would  hide  his  head  be 
hind  it,  while  he  indulged  in  a  provoking  laugh.  Perhaps 
he  was  laughing  at  something  he  was  reading  ;  but  as  the 
editorial  page,  which  was  before  him,  seldom  contains  a 
humorous  article,  I  was  induced  to  believe  that  he  was 
laughing  at  me  ;  though  why  he  should  have  done  so  I 
can't  imagine.  He  could  n't  have  seen  anything  comical 
about  me.  And  if  he,  or  any  one  else,  thinks  it  's  funny 
to  take  care  of  a  strange  babe,  who  will  persist  in  crying, 
in  a  railroad  car,  I  can  only  say  he  will  find  out  his  mistake 
when  he  tries  it.  There  are  a  good  many  annoyances  con 
nected  with  "  tending  baby,"  even  under  the  most  propi 
tious  circumstances  ;  but  these  are  greatly  aggravated  when 
you  find  yourself  placed  in  the  condition  I  was. 

I  will  do  the  baby  the  credit  of  saying  that,  after  I  had 
restored  her  to  a  proper  position,  and  so  long  as  I  kept 
her  undergoing  a  severe  treatment  of  jolting  by  riding  her 


OUT  OF   TOWN.  131 

on  my  knee  to  Banbury  Cross,  she  refrained  from  crying  ; 
but  the  moment  I  stopped,  she  would  recommence  with 
increased  vigor.  When  the  conductor  came  to  collect  the 
tickets,  I  tried  to  get  him  to  take  the  babe  while  I  searched 
my  pockets  for  it.  But  he  plumply  refused,  saying  that  he 
was  hired  by  the  railroad  company  to  run  trains  and  not 
to  hold  babies,  and  that  he  'd  be  shot  —  or  something 
worse  —  if  he  'd  take  her.  Then  I  tried  my  neighbors 
on  each  side  of  me ;  but  each  said  he  did  n't  see  it.  So 
I  placed  the  baby,  who  immediately  began  to  scream,  on 
the  floor  at  my  feet,  and  in  doing  so  I  somehow  managed 
to  loosen  the  string  which  bound  the  bundle  that  lay  on 
my  lap,  and  the  contents  of  which  —  it  contained,  I  may 
as  well  state,  three  hoop-skirts,  which  I  had  purchased  for 
Mrs.  Gray,  Miss  Floy,  and  my  eldest  girl  —  thereupon 
spread  themselves  out,  in  a  sudden  and  surprising  manner, 
in  the  very  face  of  the  unaccommodating  conductor,  re 
minding  him,  doubtless,  of  the  curious  little  boxes  from 
which,  when  the  covers  are  loosened,  grinning  skeletons 
jump  forth.  The  astonishment  of  that  conductor  was 
only  equalled  by  my  own  dismay.  The  spring  he  made 
backward  was  of  the  acrobatic  kind,  and  the  exclamation 
he  uttered  savored  more  of  profanity  than  religion.  The 
peal  of  laughter  that  ran  around  that  car,  too,  was 
not  calculated  to  soothe  my  already  disturbed  feelings, 
while  the  yells  of  the  baby  and  the  invectives  of  the  con 
ductor  were  about  equally  mingled. 

I  am  a  mild  man,  and  can  endure  a  great  deal  of  vexa 
tion  without  being  disturbed  in  my  temper ;  but  there  is  a 
limit  to  my  patience,  and  then  I  am  inclined  to  be  a  trifle 
wicked.  The  time  had  arrived  when  I  was  prepared  to 
make  a  dash  at  somebody  ;  but,  fortunately,  at  that  mo 
ment,  my  good  angel,  in  the  shape  of  the  fat  old  lady  of 
black-matan  memory,  made  her  appearance  on  the  field 
of  action,  and  taking  the  babe,  who  instantly  became  quiet 
under  her  touch,  said  she  would  take  care  of  her  until  I 


132  OUT  OF  TOWN. 

arrived  at  Fordham.  This  was  such  a  relief  to  me  that  I 
instantly  grew  amiable,  and  gave  the  conductor  to  under 
stand  that  I  looked  on  the  whole  thing  as  a  good  joke, 
which,  if  he  was  n't  disposed  to  accept,  he  might  leave 
alone.  So  he  said,  "  All  right,"  and  went  on  his  way  re 
joicing. 

Then  I  essayed  to  fold  up  the  skirts  in  the  compact 
form  in  which  they  were  when  I  received  them  from  the 
maker ;  but  although  I  tried  with  many  crinks  and  twists 
of  the  arms,  I  utterly  failed  to  bring  them  under  subjection. 
I  made  up  my  mind,  therefore,  that  there  was  a  knack 
about  doing  these  things  which  could  only  be  attained  by 
experience,  and  required  the  same  skill  to  perform  as  goes 
to  make  up  a  first-class  prestidigitator.  I  snapped  three 
or  four  of  the  steel  springs  in  my  endeavors  to  accomplish 
my  purpose,  and,  after  all,  was  obliged  to  give  it  up  unsuc 
cessful.  In  fact,  my  parcel,  when  I  did  get  it  together, 
looked  much  like  the  upper  half  of  an  inflated  balloon, 
and  bore  no  resemblance  to  the  compact  little  package  it 
was  when  I  entered  the  car. 

I  had  no  more  trouble  with  the  infant,  thanks  to  my  old 
lady,  until  I  reached  the  end  of  my  journey,  where,  of 
course,  Mr.  Smithers  was  not  present  to  receive  my  charge. 
The  consequence  was  that  I  was  obliged  to  carry  that  babe 
home  to  the  bosom  of  my  own  family,  much  to  the  surprise 
of  Mrs.  Gray  and  my  own  vexation. 

The  reception  with  which  a  man  meets  when  he  carries 
home  a  strange  babe  is  not  apt  to  be  of  the  most  flattering 
description.  He  is  viewed  with  a  suspicious  eye ;  he  is 
obliged  to  answer  a  good  many  questions,  and  his  replies 
are  not  always  regarded  as  perfectly  reliable.  This  per 
tains  more  especially  to  his  reception  if  he  be  blessed 
with  a  "resident  mother-in-law.  But  as  I  was  not  thus 
blessed,  I  will  do  Mrs.  Gray  the  justice  to  state  that  she 
received  my  account  of  the  manner  in  which  I  received 
the  babe  with  great  consideration  ;  and  when  Mr.  Smithers 


OUT  OF   TOWN.  133 

came  for  the  child,  which  he  soon  did,  she  gave  him  to  un 
derstand  that  he  need  never  expect  me  to  perform  any 
similar  service  for  him  or  Mrs.  Smithers,  as  I  was  not  to 
be  subjected  to  so  great  an  annoyance.  And  I,  for  my 
own  part,  told  him  that  when  I  did  another  errand  of  any 
kind  for  him  in  town,  he  would  be  likely  to  know  it 
And  all  that  Smithers  said  in  reply  was,  "  Jest  so." 


134  OUT  OF  TOWN. 


CHAPTER   XXIL 

Indian  Summer.  —  A  Sunday  Morning.  —  An  Impromptu.  —  Sunlight  and 
Shadow.  —  Mrs.  Gray's  Ignorance.  —  My  Vanity.  —  Indian  Summer  in 
Town  and  out  of  Town.  —  City  Folks  and  Country  Folks.  —  In  the 
Woods,  on  'Change,  and  up  and  down  Broadway.  —  Miserable  Dinners. 

are  enjoying  our  Indian  Summer  just  now  at 
Woodbine  Cottage.  It  is  of  the  most  cheering 
description.  Never,  within  the  memory  of  that 
most  respectable  of  mortals  the  oldest  inhabitant,  has  more 
delightful  weather  been  known.  A  week  ago  the  small 

O  O 

boys  of  the  village  were  skating  on  the  ice  in  a  field  just 
below  my  cottage,  and  now  the  weather  is  mild  enough  for 
the  same  boys  to  pick,  in  the  same  lot,  if  they  would  grow 
there,  ripe  strawberries.  Words  fail  to  render  a  just  idea 
of  its  lovely  character.  Balmy  as  June,  it  yet  possesses  the 
freshness  and  invigorating  qualities  of  October.  It  falls 
across  the  skirts  of  the  departing  year  like  a  gleam  of  sun 
shine  in  a  shady  place.  Xo  wonder  the  poets  have  loved 
to  sing  the  praises  of  the  Indian  Summer,  or  the  Indians 
themselves  regarded  it  as  Nature's  thanksgiving  time. 
Verily,  it  is  the  amen  of  the  year,  —  an  outwardly  ex 
pressed  sign  from  mother  earth  that  her  part,  in  the  proper 
carrying  out  of  the  obligations  of  the  various  seasons  to 
mankind,  has  been  faithfully  performed,  and  that  the  seeds 
sown  in  her  bosom  have  germinated  and  grown  to  matu 
rity,  and  been  gathered  into  the  garners.  The  harvests 
throughout  the  land  have  been  plentiful.  All  the  fruits  of 
the  earth  have  repaid  the  husbandman  many  fold  for  his 
labor,  and  it  seems  proper  that  Time  should  pause  in  his 
course  a  little  while,  and  let  Nature  sing  Jubilate  in  this 
touching  and  beautiful  manner. 


OUT   OF   TOWN.  135 

I  uttered  these  words,  or  some  very  similar  in  character, 
to  Mrs.  Gray,  as  we  were  preparing  for  church  one  Sun 
day  morning. 

"  I  declare,  my  dear,"  she  said,  "  you  are  really  growing 
to  be  quite  poetical  in  your  language." 

"  Oh  !  that 's  nothing,"  I  replied.  "  Now  listen.  This, 
I  think,  for  an  impromptu,  is  not  bad  :  — 

Fair  morn,  that  ushers  in  the  day, 
When  heaven  and  earth  are  most  in  tune, 

Thou  art  the  Sabbath  of  the  year,  — 
A  perfect  day  in  perfect  June. 

No  cloud  shall  o'er  thy  sky  appear, 

Nor  wind  disturb  thy  quiet  rest ; 
But  Peace,  dovelike,  shall  o'er  thee  brood, 

And  every  hour  be  counted  blest. 

"  And  did  you,"  asked  the  delighted  woman,  "  write  those 
lines?" 

"  Certainly,"  I  replied. 

"  And  what  prompted  you,  my  dear,"  she  asked,  "  to 
write  that '  impromptu,'  as  you  termed  it  ?  " 

"  I  was  prompted  thereto,"  I  answered,  "  by  a  picture, 
entitled  (  Sunday  Morning,'  painted  by  Durand,  and  which, 
I  believe,  has  been  engraved  and  published.  But  I  have 
done  something  better  than  that,  my  dear,  in  the  way  of 
verses  descriptive  of  a  picture." 

"  And,  pray,  what  are  they  ?  "  my  wife  asked. 

"  Why,  my  lines  on  Bierstadt's  '  Sunlight  and  Shadow.' 
Did  you  never  see  them  ?  "  I  asked. 

Mrs.  Gray  having  given  me  to  understand  that  she 
never  had,  —  though  I  am  quite  certain  she  had  ;  but  she 
likes,  I  find,  occasionally,  to  minister  to  my  vanity,  — I 
thereupon  read  to  her  the  following  lines,  entitled  — 


136  OUT  OF  TOWN. 


SUNLIGHT   AND   SHADOW. 

THE  sunlight  on  the  pavement  falls, 

And  on  the  old  tree's  rugged  trunk, 
And  up  the  church's  ancient  walls 

It  creeps,  like  prayer  from  holy  monk. 

Through  waving  boughs  it  softly  floats 

In  glowing  showers  of  radiant  light, 
And  all  the  air  with  golden  motes 

Is  warm  and  tremulous  and  bright. 

The  shadows,  made  by  flickering  leaves, 

Dance  daintily  upon  the  earth, 
And  over  all  the  silence  weaves 

A  peace  which  seems  of  heavenly  birth. 

The  old  crone  seated  at  the  gate, 
Bowed  down  with  sin  and  years  and  woe, 

Is  typical  of  that  estate 

Where  only  shadows  come  and  go. 

But  far  within  the  sacred  pile, 

And  clad  in  robes  both  rich  and  gay, 
Kneels  one  whose  heart  is  free  from  guile, 

Who  walks  in  sunshine  every  day. 

The  church,  on  which  the  ivy  clings, 
O'ergrown  with  lichen  and  with  mould, 

To  many  a  heart  the  memory  brings 
Of  bells  which  chimed  —  of  bells  which  tolled 

And  these  bells  marked  the  lights  and  shades, 

The  joys  and  sorrows  of  our  lives, 
Which  came  alike  to  youths  and  maids, 

To  husbands  and  to  wives. 

But  while  on  earth  we  still  may  stay, 

And  live  the  lives  which  God  hath  given, 

Though  shadows  lie  across  our  way, 
The  sunlight  will  be  found  in  heaven. 

When  I  finished,  my  wife  declared  that  she  had  never 


OUT  OF  TOWN.  137 

heard  prettier  verses,  and  she  thought  that  it  was  entirely 
owing  to  the  Indian  Summer  and  our  living  out  of  town 

O  O 

that  I  was  enabled  to  write  them. 

u  Yes."  I  said.  ••  it  is  not  improbable.  At  all  events  the 
city  is  not  the  place  wherein  to  enjoy  the  Indian  Summer. 
It  is  necessary  to  be  in  the  country  to  fully  appreciate  it. 
There,  ;  Where  twinkles  in  the  smoky  light  the  waters  of  the 
rill.'  and  when,  as  you  ramble  along.  •  The  sound  of  drop 
ping  nuts  is  heard,  though  all  the  air  is  still,'  is  the  proper 
place  to  be  at  this  loveliest  season  of  the  year.  Many  must 
content  themselves,  however,  with  the  town  at  this  period, 
and  deem  it  fortunate  if  at  such  time  they  can  break  loose 
from  the  cares  of  life,  and  wander  for  a  brief  hour  or  two 
in  the  Central  Park.  Xot  that  I  ever  performed  this  latter 
feat  when  a  denizen  of  the  city,  for,  to  tell  the  truth.  I  am 
not  partial  to  long  walks  ;  but  then  it  sounds  very  nicely 
thus  to  write  about  it.  Oh !  yes,  Indian  Summer  in  town 
is,  I  assure  you.  my  dear,  quite  different  from  the  same 
season  in  the  country.  And  it  is  kept  by  country  folk  and 
city  folk  very  differently.  The  former  get  up  in  the  morn 
ing,  and.  after  saying  their  prayers,  look  forth  upon  the 
broad  fields  and  the  thick  woods,  all  wrapped  in  the  smoky 
haze  peculiar  to  the  season,  and  knowing  that  their  years 
•work  is  almost  ended,  and  their  crops  gathered  into  the 
barns,  experience  a  comfortable  glow  about  the  heart,  and 
devote  the  dav  to  visiting  among  their  neighbors,  with 

*•  O  O  ~ 

whom  they  talk  about  the  harvest  and  drink  sweet  cider 
and  eat  apples.  The  old  women  sit  in  the  sun,  and  knit 
and  gossip  among  themselves  ;  while  the  young  ones,  with 
their  lovers,  hide  themselves  in  warm  and  cosey  nooks  and 
listen  to  tales  of  love.  In  the  city  men  go  about  their 
business  as  usual,  and  the  bulls  and  bears  on  'Change  growl 
at  and  hug  each  other  as  if  it  was  n't  Indian  Summer ;  and 
though  some  individuals  when  they  meet  pronounce  it  to 
be  charming  weather,  almost  too  warm  for  overcoats,  and 
not  a  bad  day  for  mint-juleps  or  sherry-cobblers,  the  majority 


138  OUT  OF   TOWN. 

of  them  don't  care  a  button  about  it.  Those  dear  creatures, 
the  ladies,  however,  really  seem  to  enjoy  it.  They  fill 
Broadway  from  morning  until  night.  They  go  up  and 
down  its  sidewalks  like  an  army  with  banners,  and  make 
severe  raids  on  milliners',  dressmakers',  and  dry-goods'  shop 
keepers.  They  wear  light  silks  and  carry  sunshades,  and 
leave  off  their  furs,  and  take  colds,  and  ices  at  Maillard's, 
and  do  an  infinite  deal  of  unnecessary  shopping  ;  and  this 
is  about  the  way  that  country  folk  and  city  folk  keep  the 
Indian  Summer." 

My  eloquence  so  astounded  Mrs.  Gray,  that  she  remained 
for  several  minutes  utterly  incapable  of  saying  a  word,  but 
at  last,  taking  up  our  collection  of  prayer-books,  and  mar 
shalling  the  children  in  a  kind  of  military  order,  she  stated 
that  she  was  ready  for  church. 

As  we  walked  towards  the  sacred  edifice  it  occurred  to 
me  that  possibly  my  wife,  who  had,  in  our  days  of  city  life, 
been  slightly  up  and  down  Broadway,  might  have  taken 
exceptions  to  the  last  portion  of  my  remarks.  Though  I 
saw  no  good  reason  for  this,  and  consoled  myself  by  think 
ing  that  we  were  all  miserable  sinners. 


OUT  OF  TOWN.  139 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

A  Birthday.  —  Apples  and  Oranges.  —  Several  little  Ones.  —  A  Learned 
Dissertation.  —  "All  About  It."  —  Daniel  Due.  —  An  Honest  Man. — 
Dyeing.  — A  few  Rhymes.  — Due's  Death.  —  The  Club  adjourned. 

Y  clear,"  I  said  to  Mrs.  Gray,  as  I  lighted  the  even 
ing  lamp  in  the  library,  "  if  you  will  permit  me 
to  ring  the  bell  for  the  maid  to  come  and  take 
the  children,  we  will  have  a  meeting  alone  by  ourselves  of 
our  club  this  evening." 

"  Certainly,  if  you  desire  it,"  she  replied  ;  "  but  I  half- 
promised  them  they  might  sit  up  this  evening,  and  have 
some  apples  and  walnuts ;  you  know  it  is  Mary's  birth- 
day." 

"  No  !  I  was  not  aware  of  it,"  I  answered.  "  But  if  this 
be  the  case,  the  little  ones  may,  assuredly,  be  permitted  to 
remain  up  later  than  usual,  and  have  their  apples  and  nuts, 
and  join  in  the  proceedings  of  the  club.  Let  me  see,"  I 
added,  thoughtfully ;  "  perhaps,  after  all,  I  did  not  forget 
that  this  was  an  eventful  day,  and  provided  for  it  accord 
ingly.  Young  Lemon-peel,"  I  continued,  addressing  my  little 
boy,  "  suppose  you  go  and  examine  my  overcoat  pockets, 
and  if  you  find  anything  in  them,  bring  it  to  me." 

The  roguish  ambassador  departed  upon  his  mission,  his 
eyes  twinkling  like  stars,  and  his  boots  making  a  terrible 
clatter  on  the  floor  of  the  hall.  During  his  absence}  "  Little 
Mary,"  I  said,  "  tell  me  how  old  you  are." 

The  little  one,  looking  up  into  my  face,  answered  : 

"  I  'm  eight  years  old  to-day,  papa,  and  I  think  I  ought 
to  have  a  present." 


140  OUT  OF  TOWN. 

"  You  are  a  very  old  girl  for  your  age,"  I  continued ; 
"  don't  you  think  so,  mamma  ?  " 

That  estimable  person  only  shook  her  head,  as  if  to  say 
that,  so  far  as  she  was  concerned,  she  wished  she  were  a 
trifle  older.  I  seated  little  Mary  on  my  knee,  and  gave  her 
to  understand  that  as  soon  as  the  ten-years-old  chap  in  the 
boots  came  back,  the  present  she  wished  for  would  be 
forthcoming.  As  he  entered  the  room,  "  the  baby  "  left  me 
to  go  and  meet  him.  He  had  a  small  package  of  candies 
in  one  hand,  and  his  other  hand  and  pockets  were  filled 
with  oranges,  while  a  great  doll  was  in  his  arms.  Em.,  the 
eldest  of  the  flock,  who  had  been  sitting  at  her  mother's 
feet,  reading  aloud,  at  sight  of  the  oranges,  dropped  her 
book  and  sprang  to  assist  her  brother  in  bringing  these 
treasures  to  me.  Between  the  trio's  efforts,  the  oranges 
were  dropped  and  went  rolling  about  the  floor.  Then 
ensued  a  scramble  for  them,  and  as  pater  familias  joined 
in,  he  succeeded  in  obtaining  the  lion's  share. 

"  How  very  dignified  you  appear,  Mr.  Gray,"  exclaimed 
my  wife,  "prone  on  the  floor.  Suppose  visitors  should 
come  in ! " 

"  Well,  what  then  ?  "  I  asked,  recovering,  however,  my 
erect  position. 

"  Nothing,"  she  replied. 

"  Oh  ! "  I  answered. 

It  was,  perhaps,  well  that  this  episode  ended  thus  quickly 
and  quietly,  for  little  Mary  was  anxious  to  see  her  doll,  and 
the  other  children  were  eager  to  put  their  teeth  into  the 
oranges,  and,  though  the  latter  proved  to  be  sour,  they 
were  none  the  less  enjoyed. 

"  Oranges,  my  dear,"  I  remarked,  while  the  children 
were  enjoying  their  collation,  "  are  essentially  a  tropical 
fruit." 

"  Indeed  !  "  interrupted  Mrs.  Gray ;  "  I  always  thought 
they  grew  in  the  Arctic  regions." 

"The   orange-tree,   {Citrus  aurantium,)"    I   continued, 


OUT  OF  TOWN.  141 

giving  no  heed  to  Mrs.  Gray's  remark,  "  is  to  be  found  in 
profusion  in  nearly  all  of  the  warm  climates  of  Europe, 
Northern  Africa,  and  many  parts  of  Asia  and  America. 
This  orange  "  • —  taking  one  into  my  hand  — ''  came,  prob 
ably,  from  one  of  the  Southern  States,  —  Alabama,  per 
haps,  where  our  good  friends,  the  authors  of  '  Souvenirs 
of  Travel '  and  '  Beulah,'  reside." 

Mrs.  Gray  thereupon  regarded  the  said  orange  with 
great  interest,  as  if  she  thought  it  might  possibly  speak  a 
word  or  two  regarding  these  lady  friends. 

"  The  islands  of  the  Azores  are  famed  for  producing  a 
fine  variety.  Did  you  ever  see  an  orange  orchard  ?  "  I 
asked. 

Mrs.  Gray  never  had. 

"  Nor  have  I,"  I  continued  ;  "  but  some  time  or  other 
we  will  take  a  trip  southward  and  look  upon  the  orange- 
trees,  and  taste  their  fruit  in  its  excellence." 

"  You  have  seen  the  orange-tree,  I  suppose,"  said  Mrs. 
Gray,  "  growing  in  greenhouses  ?  " 

I  had. 

"  So  have  I,"  exclaimed  Em.,  who  had,  with  the  others, 
been  standing  open-eyed  and  open-mouthed  around  us. 
"  I  've  seen  them :  their  leaves  are  green  and  glossy,  and 
their  flowers  white  and  pretty ;  their  perfume  is  very  sweet, 
too,  and  sometimes  it  almost  makes  me  faint  away. 
Grandma's  tree  used  often  to  have  flowers,  and  green 
oranges,  and  pale  yellow  ones,  and  those  of  a  deep  orange 
shade,  all  at  the  same  time.  I  used  to  think  it  was  a  very 
nice  sight,  and  I  wondered  why  peaches  and  apples,  and 
other  fruits  of  the  North,  did  n't  grow  so.  Why  don't  they, 
papa  ?  " 

And,  with  this  question  for  me  to  answer,  Miss  Em. 
seized  another  orange,  and  stood  before  me  sucking  its 
juice,  while  awaiting  my  reply. 

Not  being  able  to  answer  the  question,  however,  I  said : 

"  My  little  girl,  I  gave  to  you,  a  short  time  since,  a  book 


142  OUT  OF   TOWN. 

called  '  All  About  It ;  or,  The  History  and  Mystery  of 
Common  Things.'  Now,  I  think  if  you  will  get  that  book 
to-morrow,  probably  you  will  be  able  to  find  in  it  the 
reason." 

She  promised  to  do  so,  and  then,  as  it  was  nine  o'clock, 
and  "  the  baby"  exhibited  unmistakable  symptoms  of  sleepi 
ness,  my  wife  rung  the  bell  for  the  maid,  who  bore  the 
little  folks  away  to  their  cribs  and  couches. 

After  they  had  gone,  Mrs.  Gray  and  myself  turned  over 
the  pages  of  many  books,  both  large  and  small,  including 
the  "  All  About  It "  book,  without  learning  from  any  of 
them  the  reason  why  the  orange  and  lemon  bear  flowers 
and  fruit  at  the  same  time,  and  peaches  and  apples  do 
not. 

"  My  dear,"  at  last  I  said,  "  we  will  not  puzzle  our  brains 
any  more  about  it." 

"  But  I  am  dying  to  know,  my  dear,"  she  exclaimed. 

"  That,  somehow,  reminds  me,"  I  answered,  "  of  Daniel 
Due,  a  very  honest  man  whom  I  once  knew,  and  who, 
meeting  with  an  accident  one  day,  shortly  afterward  took 
to  dyeing." 

"  Did  it  kill  him,  Mr.  Gray  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  What,"  I  rejoined,  —  "  the  '  accident,'  or  the  '  one  day,' 
or  the  '  dyeing  ? ' " 

"  Pshaw  !  "  she  replied  ;  "  did  he  die,  Mr.  Gray  ?  " 

"  No,  thank  fortune  ! "  I  answered ;  "  he  never  dyed 
Mr.  Gray." 

"  Gracious  ! "  she  ejaculated,  "  what  a  foolish  man  you 
are.  Did  he  die  himself,  my  dear  ?  " 

"  Often,  my  love,  often,"  I  answered,  —  "  at  least,  so  far 
as  his  hands  and  arms  were  concerned." 

"  Then  only  his  hands  and  arms  died  ?  "  she  said. 

"  Oh,  yes,  other  things,  too,"  I  replied. 

"  His  legs,  perhaps  ?  "  suggested  Mrs.  Gray,  ironically. 

"  Well,  I  am  not  sure  about  them,"  I  answered,  "  but  I 
think  it  probable." 


OUT  OF   TOWN.  143 

"  Mr.  Gray,"  said  my  wife,  sitting  up  in  her  chair  like  a 
judge,  "  did  you  see  this  man  Due  die  ?  " 

"  Several  times,  my  love,"  I  answered ;  "  and  he  dyed 
very  well." 

"  Died  very  well,  did  he  ?  he  must  have  been  hung,  then," 
she  added,  savagely ;  "  for  when  people  die  in  their  beds 
they  usually  are  very  ill." 

"  But  he  is  n't  dead  yet,"  I  said. 

Mrs.  Gray  was  dumb  with  astonishment. 

"  Listen,"  I  continued,  "  while  I  relate  the  story  of,  and 
explain  the  mystery  regarding  — 

"HONEST    DANIEL   DUE." 

HE  was  a  very  honest  man, 

None  honester,  though  saint  or  sinner ; 
His  name  was  Daniel  Due,  but  Dan 

We  called  him,  when  't  was  time  for  dinner. 
He  worked  on  shares  my  father's  farm 

For  thirty  years,  nor  pay  demanded, 
Until  he  broke  his  favorite  arm,  — 

His  left  one,  —  for  he  was  left-handed. 

And  then  he  said  he  must  retire 

Prom  active  life,  so  took  to  dyeing  ; 
But  first  my  father  paid  his  hire, 

Which  long  had  been  on  interest  lying. 
Six  thousand  dollars,  I  believe, 

And  something  more,  his  wages  came  to ; 
At  first  this  sum  he  'd  not  receive, 

And  no  receipt  would  sign  his  name  to. 

JT  were  deuced  hard,  he  said,  if  he 

Must  do  a  thing  that  seemed  like  stealing; 
He  did  n't  see  how  it  could  be  ; 

'T  were  very  much  like  double-dealing ; 
It  did  n't  have  an  honest  look,  — 

Six  thousand  dollars  was  a  "  stunner  ;  " 
He  guessed  't  would  buy  up  Sandy  Hook, 

And  every  ship  and  every  gunner. 

'T  was  long  before  he  would  give  in, 
And  take  the  money  that  was  due  him  ; 


144  OUT  OF   TOWN. 

At  last  my  father  raised  a  din, 

And  vowed  most  fervently  he  'd  sue  him. 

The  money  he  should  have  —  't  was  his, 
And  he  for  years  had  worked  to  win  it ; 

Cried  Dan,  "  Now,  squire,  your  dander 's  riz, 
And  this  here  Dan  is  goin'  to  shin  it. 

"  I  never  have  been  sued,"  he  said, 

"  And  I've  been,  boy  and  man  together, 
Just  thirtj'  years  a-breaking  bread, 

Through  summer  and  through  winter  weather ; 
And  honest  bread  it  was  and  good, 

And  you  know,  squire,  the  one  as  made  it, 
The  very  pink  of  womanhood, 

Though  she  's  your  wife,  —  now  I  have  said  it." 

And  then  he  stood  and  scratched  his  head, 

And  opened  wide  his  eyes  in  wonder ; 
At  last  he  cried,  "  Just  shoot  me  dead, 

If  I  hain't  got  a  plan  —  by  thunder ! 
We  '11  compromise  the  matter,  squire  ; 

I  '11  take  six  hundred  —  you,  what  's  over; 
Then  I  '11  have  just  my  honest  hire, 

And  on  it  I  can  live  in  clover." 

A  happy  man  was  Daniel  Due  ; 

He  thought  he  'd  put  it  mighty  clever, 
But  father  knew  a  trick  or  two, 

And  said,  "  Dan,  you  '11  our  friendship  sever, 
Unless  you  '11  take  your  money  now; 

Another  "  nay  "  from  you,  and  never 
Will  I  recognize  you  by  bow 

Or  word  from  this  time  on  forever." 

So  Dan,  more  frightened  fur  than  hurt, 

Took  up  the  gold,  and  went  to  dyeing, 
And  now  he  wears  a  colored  shirt, 

And  goes  about  the  village  crying, 
From  door  to  door,  that  he  will  dye 

On  such  a  day,  if  Heaven  be  willing ; 
He  '11  do  it  too,  before  your  eye, 

And  for  the  sum  of  one  small  shilling. 

When  Dan  comes  near  my  father's  place, 
I  tell  you  there  is  some  confusion, 


OUT  OF   TOWN.  145 

Danger  is  written  on  each  face, 

For  Daniel  has  one  strange  delusion, 
And  thinks  he  only  can  repay 

My  father  for  his  honest  action, 
By  taking  all  our  clothes  away, 

To  dye  them  to  his  satisfaction. 

No  matter  what  the  garments  be, 

If  Dan  but  gets  them  they  are  "his'n;  " 
And  when  those  clothes  again  you  see, 

You  think  that  Joseph's  coat  has  risen. 
The  shirts  are  often  dyed  pea-green, 

The  pantaloons  are  red  or  golden  ; 
And  silken  robes,  of  wondrous  sheen, 

To  every  color  are  beholden. 

But  Dan  will  live  —  and  he  will  dye 

As  long  as  dyeing  holds  in  fashion,  — 
An  honest  man  who  scorns  a  lie, 

And  never  gets  into  a  passion. 
And  when,  at  last,  he  comes  to  die, 

Attended  by  a  good  physician, 
His  soul  will  float  across  the  sky, 

And  into  heaven's  bright  elysian. 

"  Oh  ! "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Gray,  as  I  concluded  my  recital, 
"  I  understand  it  clearly  now  —  the  dyeing  and  all  that." 

"  And  now,  my  dear,"  I  remarked,  "  this  concludes  an 
other  meeting  of  our  club  around  the  evening  lamp,  and 
a  very  pleasant  evening  it  has  been.  And  now,  with  your 
permission,  my  love,  we  will  adjourn  sine  die  !  " 

"  You  have  my  permission,  Mr.  Gray."  And  straight 
way  we  adjourned. 

10 


J46  OUT  OF   TOWN 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

An  Old-fashioned  Thanksgiving  Day.  —  A  Fast  Day ;  how  to  keep  it.  — 
A  Thanksgiving-Dinner.  —  Boasted  Pig.  —  A  Serious  Misfortune.  — 
Bierstadt,  the  Artist;  his  unnatural  Inclinations;  why  he  paints  Fine 
Pictures.  —  Ice-water  vs.  Wine.  —  After-dinner  Verses.  —  Arrival  of 
Midnight  and  Miss  Floy." 

[HALL  I  ever  live,"  I  asked  Mrs.  Gray,  as  we  drew 
our  chairs  up  before  the  blazing  wood-fire,  the 
other  night,  "  to  see  an  old-fashioned  Thanksgiv 
ing  Day,  —  such  an  one  as  I  knew  in  my  grandmother's 
time,  when,  having  eaten  just  as  much  as  I  could  of 
chicken-pie  and  turkey,  with  lots  of  vegetables,  and  heard 
my  respected  grandfather  repeat,  as  he  always  did  on  such 
occasions,  by  way  of  a  grace  between  the  meat  and  the 
pudding,  these  quaint  lines  :  — 

A  turkey  boiled  is  a  turkey  spoiled  ; 

A  turkey  roast  is  a  turkey  lost  ; 

But  for  a  turkey  brazed  the  Lord  be  praised.' 

1  still  had  room  enough  in  my  slender  corporation  for 
many  magnificent  slices  of  mince,  pumpkin,  and  apple-pie, 
saucers  of  real  calves'-feet  jelly,  —  none  of  your  gelatine 
innovations,  —  apples,  raisins,  and  walnuts,  all  washed 
down  with  a  glass  of  generous  old  port  wine,  given  to  me, 
at  my  last  gasping  extremity,  by  my  over-indulgent  grand 
parents  ?  —  I  ask,  shall  I  ever  see  such  a  day  again  ?  " 

Mrs.  Gray  replied  that  she  thought  I  never  would. 

"  Not  but  that  I  am  thankful  enough  in  my  heart,"  I 
continued,  not  heeding  her  interruption,  "  and  sometimes 
go  to  church  on  these  occasions,  and  eat  a  good  enough 
dinner ;  but  the  spirit  of  the  thing  is  gone.  I  cannot  get 


OUT   OF   TOWN.  147 

up  the  proper  degree  of  enthusiasm  or  appetite.  Some 
how,  Thanksgiving  Day  seems  a  little  passe  ;  and  I  relish 
a  fast  day,  which  does  not  come  quite  as  often,  much 
more." 

Thereupon  Mrs.  Gray  said  that  she  did  not  believe  it. 

"  This  clothing  myself  in  sackcloth,"  I  went  on,  paying 
no  attention  to  my  wife's  remark,  "  and  casting  ashes  upon 
my  head,  is  a  novelty  for  me,  and  wonderfully  pleasing  to 
the  children,  who  '  admire '  to  see  me  do  it.  Then,  as  to 
the  matter  of  fasting  !  it  is  a  very  good  thing  ;  and  though 
I  get  wonderfully  hungry  at  about  my  usual  dinner-time,  I 
manage  to  stick  it  out  for  an  hour  or  two  longer,  when  tell 
ing  you,  my  dear,  that  I  will  go  out  and  take  a  walk  to 
carry  off  the  edge  of  my  appetite,  I  incontinently  make  a 
straight  line  for  the  nearest  restaurant,  where  I  indulge  in 
an  expensive  course  of  oysters,  raw,  fried,  stewed,  and 
roasted,  and  frequent  mugs  of  Aster  ale.  I  discovered, 
too,  one  day,  that  notwithstanding  my  precepts  and  exam 
ple  in  the  house,  when  I  went  out  to  take  my  walk,  you  had 
a  habit  of  sending  to  the  same  restaurant  I  frequented  for 
a  hundred  oysters  for  yourself  and  children,  though  I  never 
could  discover  any  signs,  when  I  returned  home,  of  you  or 
they  having  partaken  of  such  fast-day  alleviators." 

Hereupon  Mrs.  Gray  emphatically  denied  that  she  had 
ever  condescended  to  adopt  so  miserable  a  piece  of  decep 
tion  ;  but  that  she  was  not  surprised  to  learn  that  I  had 
been  guilty  of  such  deceit. 

"  What  I  wish  to  speak  of,"  I  continued,  making  no  re 
ply  to  my  wife's  last  remark,  "  is  Thanksgiving  Day,  and 
especially  the  thanksgiving-dinner,  which  should,  after  the 
first  requisite  in  any  dinner,  namely,  quality,  recommend 
itself  to  those  seated  around  the  mahogany  by  its  quantity. 
There  should  be  enough  and  to  spare  of  everything,  and 
everybody  on  this  occasion  should  eat  as  much,  and  per 
haps  —  the  children  especially  —  a  little  more,  than  they 
want.  In  addition  to  the  oysters,  soup,  fish,  turkey,  chick- 


148  OUT  OF   TOWN. 

en-pie,  vegetables  innumerable,  and  pastry  and  dessert  un- 
limitable,  there  should  unquestionably  be  a  roasted  pig,  — 
one  which  would  have  delighted  even  Charley  Lamb,  —  a 
young,  succulent,  and  crisply-cooked  morsel,  innocent  of 
the  sty,  and  stuffed  with  sweet  smelling  and  savory  herbs. 
Do  you  remember,  my  dear,"  I  asked,  "  last  Thanksgiving 
Day,"  and  how  we  kept  it  at  Mansfield  Place  ?  " 

Mrs.  Gray  said  that  she  did. 

"  But  you  do  not  remember,"  I  continued,  "  because  you 
never  knew  it,  of  the  serious  disappointment  I  met  with 
on  that  day." 

My  wife  looked  up  inquiringly. 

"  I  had  been  drinking  a  bottle  of  choice  wine,"  I  said, 
"  with  a  ruby -nosed  friend  who  duly  appreciated  it,  but 
who  unfortunately  had  an  engagement,  as  he  expressed  it, 
'  with  an  early  dinner/  —  I  don't  think  he  cared  a  dime 
for  the  giver  of  it,  —  and  was  obliged  to  leave  without 
giving  me  an  opportunity  to  open  another  bottle." 

"  Which  I  am  very  glad  to  learn,"  interrupted  Mrs. 
Gray. 

"  But  for  which  I  was  sorry,"  I  replied.  "  So,  while  I 
sat  mourning  over  my  sad  fate,  —  that  of  having  no  one 
for  whom  to  open  my  second  bottle,  —  I  heard  the  door 
bell  ring,  and  exclaimed,  '  Heaven  fortunately  has  sent 
another  mouth  to  moisten  with  wine.  I  will  be  thankful 
this  day.'  But  when  I  saw  who  it  was,  my  cup  was 
dashed,  unfilled,  to  the  ground.  For  Bierstadt,  who  trav 
elled  overland  to  San  Francisco,  dwelt  a  week  or  two 
among  the  Mormons,  clambered  up  the  Rocky  Mountains, 
slept  —  what  to  ordinary  mortals  would  have  been  rheumatic 
slumbers  —  on  the  bleak  sides  of  Mount  Shasta,  wandered 
foot-sore  and  weary  through  the  Yo-Semite  Valley,  and 
lived  years  in  Dusseldorf,  among  tuns  of  lager-beer  and 
clouds  of  tobacco-smoke,  scarcely  knows  the  taste  of 
liquor,  and  has  never  smoked  a  pipe  in  his  life.  The 
moment,  therefore,  I  heard  his  pleasant  voice,  I  knew 


OUT  OF   TOWN.  149 

that  I  would  have  to  close  my  little  wine-shop,  and  betake 
myself  to  that  beverage  which  was  found  in  Eden  before 
Eve  pressed  cider  from  the  apple.  The  first  thing  the 
man  asked  for,  as  I  knew  he  would,  was  ice-water.  Ice- 
water  on  Thanksgiving  Day !  the  coldest  day,  too,  of  the 
season  ;  and  when,  from  my  windows,  I  could  see  in  the 
open  lot,  opposite  the  house,  the  boys  skating  on  a  little 
pond  that  winters  there.  Heaven  forgive  the  man,  I  say, 
his  unnatural  inclinations.  I  tried  to  persuade  him,  in  my 
smoothest  tones,  to  forego,  on  this  occasion,  his  favorite 
beverage,  and  quaff  with  me  the  amber-tinted  wine.  He 
said  that  would  sound  very  well  in  poetry,  and  that  wine 
was  a  nice  thing  to  look  at,  and  sip  occasionally  at  a  wed 
ding  ;  but  for  a  steady  drink  he  thought  water  preferable. 
Thereupon,  I  had  the  bottle,  tall  and  graceful  in  form,  and 
the  delicately  thin  glasses,  removed,  and  a  double-walled 
ice-pitcher,  with  the  figure  of  a  polar  bear  on  its  top,  filled 
with  ice-water,  and  a  stout  goblet  accompanying  it,  inhos 
pitably  placed  before  my  guest.  He  drank  copious  liba 
tions,  and  declared  it  better  than  the  wine  of  any  vintage. 
Perhaps,  after  all,  my  dear,  he  is  correct.  I  doubt  if  the 
grand  pictures,  full  of  power  and  broad  effect,  —  of 
snow-clad  mountains,  deep  and  fertile  valleys,  bounding 
torrents  and  water-falls,  broad  lakes  and  flowing  rivers, 
primeval  forests,  and  rocks,  such  as  that  which  the  sacred 
writer  had  in  his  mind  when  he  said,  '  The  shadow  of  a 
great  rock  in  a  weary  land,'  —  which  Bierstadt  now  turns 
yearly  from  his  easel,  could  be  painted  by  him  if  he 
clouded  his  clear  brain  with  even  the  choicest  vintages  the 
world  has  known.  The  ice-water  proved  so  great  a  temp 
tation,  that  he  dined  with  us  for  the  sake  of  obtaining 
another  glass  of  it" 

"  And  was  the  refusal  of  our  artist  friend,"  asked  my 
wife,  "  to  partake  of  wine  with  you,  the  '  serious  disappoint 
ment  '  on  that  day  to  which  you  refer  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  I  answered ;  "  but  I  never  bore  him  any  ill-will 
on  that  account.'1 


150  OUT  OF  TOWN. 

"  "Well,  that  was  kind  in  you,  I  confess,"  said  my  wife,  in 
a  slightly  ironical  tone. 

"  I  think  it  was,"  I  replied  ;  "  but  never  mind.  Did  n't 
we  have  roasted  pig  that  day  for  dinner,  my  dear  ?  " 

"  No,"  she  answered  ;  "  it  was  on  the  Thanksgiving  Day 
of  the  previous  year.  Don't  you  remember  that  you  wrote 
a  poem  in  praise  of  roasted  pig,  which  you  recited  at  the 
table,  where  several  artists  and  other  friends  were  present  ?" 

"  Oh,  yes,"  I  replied ;  and  my  wife  expressing  a  desire 
to  hear  again  the  lines  in  question,  I  turned  to  my  writing- 
desk,  and  taking  from  one  of  its  pigeon-holes  a  few  sheets 
of  paper,  read  aloud  to  her  the  following  — 

AFTER-DINNER  VERSES. 

THE  curtain  rises  with  unusual  grace, 

And  shows  a  dining-room  in  Mansfield  Place. 

The  hour  —  past  seven,  as  any  one  may  see, 

Who  '11  look  upon  the  clock,  and  not  at  me. 

The  persons  present  —  need  my  tongue  reveal 

The  names  of  those  my  Muse  would  fain  conceal  ? 

Yes,  did  I  hear  ?  then  be  it  so,  my  friend, 

I  '11  introduce  them  all  before  I  end. 

But,  in  the  first  place,  I  've  a  tale  to  tell 

About  a  pig  whose  tail  curled  very  well,  — 

A  tender  suckling,  guiltless  of  all  sties, 

His  mother's  pride,  the  darling  of  her  eyes  ; 

The  loudest  squeaker  'mong  her  little  ones, 

The  Benjamin  of  all  her  many  sons, 

Torn  from  his  mother's  lactage-giving  breast, 

Where,  not  two  moons  ago,  he  first  found  rest, 

By  rude  hands  he  was  hurried  to  the  slaughter, 

And  murdered  just  to  please  the  butcher's  daughter. 

Stuck  in  the  throat  —  his  end,  indeed,  was  bitter, 

But 't  was  the  end  of  all  his  mother's  litter ; 

That  sort  of  death,  prefaced  by  no  disease, 

Runs  through  her  family  with  perfect  ease. 

This  little  pig,  as  every  one  must  know, 

Was  country -bred,  —  the  butcher  told  me  so,  — 

And  butchers,  as  a  class,  all  speak  the  truth, 

Unless  they  learned  to  lie  in  early  youth. 

My  confidence  in  him  is  clearly  shown, 


OUT  OF  TOWN.  151 

By  buying  sausages  of  him  alone. 

I  'm  thankful  though,  the  question  does  not  lie 

Between  the  bloody  butcher-man  and  I ; 

Another  chap,  a  youth  of  eighteen  years, 

With  a  white  apron  and  uncommon  ears, 

Warts  on  his  fingers,  grease  upon  his  hair, 

And  witli  a  rowdy,  semi-Bowery  air, 

Told  me  the  fellow  who  had  sold  the  pig 

Unto  the  butcher  was  a  perfect  prig, 

And,  knowing  him  to  be  more  knave  than  clown, 

Believed  the  pig  was  stol'n  from  "  Nestledown." 

Alas  !  that  such  a  sweet,  young  pig  should  die  ! 

His  bones  lie  here  ;  his  shadow  none  can  spy  ; 

His  cheerful  squeal,  dried  up  and  put  away, 

Will  serve,  perhaps,  another  pig  some  day. 

What  of  his  flesh  ?     The  larger  part  doth  rest 

In  peace  and  safety  under  Gifford's  vest. 

The  cracklings  —  soft !  a  lady  's  in  the  case,  — 

She  's  had  her  share,  I  read  it  in  her  face  ; 

Of  dressing,  stuffing,  call  it  what  you  will, 

The  long-haired  Beard-ed  man  has  had  his  fill. 

Then  Wheeler  round,  and  none  of  you  will  fail 

To  see  the  wretch  who  robbed  me  of  the  tail,  — 

That  lovely  caudal,  curled,  and  crisp,  and  red, 

Once  full  of  life,  but  now  extremely  dead. 

His  little  ears,  —  of  dainty  pink  within,  — 

Which  never  listened  to  a  word  of  sin, 

Were  just  the  bits  to  give  the  gentle  maid 

Who  on  my  left  sits  tastefully  arrayed. 

And  of  the  ribs  —  those  covering  the  heart  — 

This  maiden's  mother  had  a  matron's  part. 

Then  there  's  the  gravy  —  who  but  marked  with  pain, 

The  many  times  I  asked  for  some  in  vain  1 

Who  heard  not  all  the  pleading  words  I  spake, 

Imploring  gravy  for  my  stomach's  sake  ? 

Composed  —  the  gravy,  not  the  thing  which  aches 

When  unripe  fruit,  or  cucumbers,  one  takes  — 

With  dexterous  skill  and  culinary  care, 

Of  liver,  heart,  and  other  tidbits  rare, 

Next  to  the  brain,  —  which  he  who  got  required,  — 

The  sauce  is  by  most  epicures  desired. 

Ought  any  wife  among  you  give  a  guest 

That  which  she  knew  her  husband  liked  the  best  ? 

Wedlock  forbid  !     Then  why  keep  back  from  me 


152  OUT  OF  TOWN. 

Those  spoonfuls  which  mine  gave  to  McEntee. 

Who  got  the  feet,  and  who  the  head  did  gain, 

Are  questions  which  my  muse  will  ask  in  vain ; 

That  wreck,  that  skeleton  of  youthful  pork, 

Torn,  cut,  and  mangled  by  the  knife  and  fork, 

Alone  remains  to  claim  a  pitying  tear, 

From  the  old  cook,  who  '11  drown  her  grief  in  beer. 

Nipped  in  the  bud,  —  plucked  off  like  unripe  fruit,— 

Torn  from  the  earth  ere'  he  had  learned  to  root, 

The  little  pig  no  more  his  squeak  shall  raise, 

Nor  scamper  after  straws  in  wild  amaze  ; 

No  more  shall  kink  his  lovely  tail  in  air, 

Nor  think  his  bristles  very  pretty  hair  ; 

Cock  his  bright  eyes  up  at  the  noonday  sun, 

Prick  up  his  ears  and  nimbly  frisk  and  run. 

No  more  partake,  his  hunger  ne'er  appeased, 

Of  various  meals  just  when  and  how  he  pleased, 

But  having,  haply,  given  up  the  ghost, 

Part  of  his  flesh  was  Cotfin-ed  by  your  host ; 

The  rest,  partaken  with  no  sense  of  fear, 

May  prove  to  you  a  nightmare  souvenir, 

Unless  you  follow  this  advice  of  mine, 

To  drink  the  pig's  repose  in  sparkling  wine. 

And  so,  occupied  with  many  pleasant  reminiscences  of 
by-gone  Thanksgiving  times,  did  my  wife  and  I,  before  the 
blazing  hearth,  sit  and  chat  until  midnight  and  Miss  Floy 
—  who  had  been  scribbling  in  her  own  room  —  came  in 
together. 


OUT  OF   TOWN.  153 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

Edwin  Booth  as  Hamlet.  —  In  the  Library.  —  A  Smoky  Scent  and  a 
Lemony  Perfume.  —  Chartreuse.  —  A  Thimbleful.  —  Jolly  Monks.  — 
"  The  Lover's  Appeal."  —  The  Game  of  Billiards.  —  Berger.  —  His  Mar 
vellous  Feats.  —  Another  Player,  Pierre  Carme. 

E  had  been  to  town  to  see  Edwin  Booth  in  "  Hamlet," 
and,  returning  by  a  late  train,  did  not  reach  Wood- 
bine  Cottage  until  long  after  midnight,  yet  neither 
Mrs.  Gray  nor  myself  were  disposed  to  sleep.  We  sat  in 
the  library,  before  the  grate,  the  dying  embers  in  which  I 
was  stirring  into  something  like  life  with  the  poker ;  while 
Mrs.  Gray  was  turning  over  the  pages  of  "  Shakspeare." 
A  small  copper  kettle,  on  the  smouldering  coals,  seemed  to 
be  singing  its  very  life  away,  and  losing  itself  behind  a 
cloud  of  steam  that  issued  from  its  nozzle.  A  smoky  scent 
and  a  lemony  perfume  filled  the  apartment.  A  storm  was 
brewing  without,  but  something  better  was  brewing  within. 
I  was  thinking  of  the  wassail-bowls  of  olden  times,  of  the 
flagons  of  Flemish  beer,  of  the  nectar  of  Jove,  of  the  sack 
that  Falstaff  quaffed,  of  the  Lachryma  Christi  which  princes 
drank,  of  the  thimbleful  of  Doppel  Kiimmel  I  tasted  on 
board  of  the  Russian  flag-ship  last  season,  and  of  that 
precious  liqueur  Chartreuse,  of  which  even  I  have  often 
sipped. 

"  It  is  certainly  very  excellent,"  I  uttered. 

"  Excellent ! "  echoed  Mrs.  Gray  ;  "  he -is  wonderful." 

"  I  don't  know  its  superior,"  I  said. 

"  Its  ! "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Gray  ;  "  he,  you  mean  ;  "  and  she 
glanced  suspiciously  at  the  contents  of  my  glass. 

"  No,  my  dear,'  I  responded  ;  "  I  prefer  the  neuter  to  the 
masculine  gender  in  this  case." 


154  OUT  OF   TOWN. 

"  You  are  wrong,  so  far  as  grammar  is  concerned,  Mr. 
Gray,"  she  replied ;  "  but  if  you  will  indulge  in  these  ob 
noxious  punches  I  ought  not  to  expect  anything  more 
grammatical  from  you.  I  shall,  no  doubt,  be  addressed, 
by-and-by,  as  'it,'  or  by  some  term  quite  as  inappro 
priate." 

"  Mrs.  Gray,"  I  exclaimed,  "  you  astonish  me ;  of  what 
or  whom,  pray,  were  you  speaking  ?  " 

"  Why,  Mr.  Booth's  personation  of  Hamlet,  of  course." 

"  Oh  ! "  I  said,  "  I  thought  it  was  of  something  else." 

"  What '  something  else  '  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Chartreuse,"  I  answered. 

"  And  what  is  '  Chartreuse '  ?  "  she  inquired. 

"  Guess,"  I  said. 

Now,  nothing  annoys  my  estimable  spouse  more  than 
being  requested  to  guess  at  a  matter  of  which  she  possesses 
no  knowledge.  It  almost  invariably  has  the  effect  of  caus 
ing  her  either  to  leave  the  room  in  an  abrupt  manner,  or 
else  to  effectually  close  her  lips  for  fifteen  minutes.  In  the 
present  instance,  however,  thinking  she  might  possibly  be 
correct,  she  responded,  after  a  brief  pause,  "  Why,  it  is,  I 
presume,  somewhat  of  the  nature  of  a  charlotte-russe,  —  at 
all  events,  it  sounds  similarly." 

"  Wrong,  my  dear,"  I  said,  "  but  ingeniously  answered  ; 
Chartreuse  is  a  liqueur  made  in  the  Alps,  from  various 
herbs  which  grow  just  below  the  boundary  where  vegetation 
ceases  and  snow  and  ice  commence.  There  are  three 
kinds,  of  which  the  best  is  amber-hued,  oily,  and  possessing 
a  delicious  perfume.  It  is  usually  sipped  after  dinner,  and 
follows  the  coffee.  A  thimbleful  is  sufficient.  It  is  made 
by  the  monks  who  dwell  at  Chartreuse." 

"  For  my  part,"  remarked  Mrs.  Gray,  "  I  think  the  monks 
might  be  better  employed." 

"  You  would  not  say  so,  my  dear,"  I  replied,  "  if  you  had 
tasted  it.  Some  day,  when  my  ships  come  home,  I  will 
bring  you  a  flask  of  it,  and  though  at  first  you  may  not 


OUT  OF   TOWN.  15* 

receive  it  with  favor,  —  for,  after  all,  the  taste  for  it  is  an 
acquired  one,  —  you  will,  in  a  brief  time,  deem  it  a  most 
delicious  beverage." 

"  Mr.  Gray,"  said  my  wife,  "  I  do  not  think  I  care  to 
taste  Chartreuse.  You  like  it  because  it  is,  probably,  an 
expensive  liqueur,  and  not  because  you  really  relish  it. 
You  have  a  penchant,  I  think,  for  all  kinds  of  viands  that 
are  costly  and  rare." 

"  This,  doubtless,  was  the  reason,"  I  said,  "  why  I  pre 
ferred  you,  my  dear,  to  the  many  other  charming  beings 
who,  in  the  days  of  my  bachelorhood,  crossed  my  path." 

"  I  would  I  could  believe  it,  Mr.  Gray,"  she  replied ; 
"  but  how  often  have  you  addressed  any  love-poem  to 
me  like  those  you  used  to  write  to  the  Fannies  and  the 
Annies,  and  the  little  Southern  maids  of  your  boyhood's 
days  ?  " 

"  Not  often,"  I  responded  ;  "  but  ask  yourself  if,  after  all. 
such  sentimental  tokens  of  regard  can  be  placed  in  the 
balance  to  outweigh  those  words  of  love  I  uttered  at  the 
chancel-rails  ?  No  !  a  thousand  times  no  !  my  dear,  I 
know  you  will  answer." 

"  You  are  certainly  very  kind  to  reply  for  me,"  my  wife 
said,  "  and  I  will  not  say  but  that  you  are  correct ;  still  I 
would  like  to  have  you  address  some  verses  to  me,  on  the 
anniversary  of  our  marriage,  such  as  you  did  on  my  last 
birthday." 

"  Suppose,"  I  replied,  "  I  write  a  Christmas  carol  for 
you,  in  which  I  praise  your  beauty  and  virtues  ?  " 

Mrs.  Gray  assumed  an  injured  air,  and  turned  over  the 
leaves  of  her  book,  without  replying.  After  a  pause,  during 
which  I  sipped  the  contents  of  my  goblet,  I  added  :  — 

"  The  truth  is,  that  the  verses  I  wrote  to  my  early 
charmers  were  flippant,  foolish,  and  unworthy  of  being 
addressed  to  my  wife.  For  instance,"  I  continued,  turning 
to  my  scrap-book,  and  taking  therefrom  the  following  lines, 
entitled  — 


156  OUT  OF   TOWN. 

THE  LOVER'S   APPEAL. 

I  LOVE  thee !  and  my  heart  is  proudly  ringing 

The  endless  changes  of  these  words  to-day, 
"While  round  my  pathway  Hope  is  gayly  singing 

The  music  which  befits  a  wedding-lay. 
The  clouds  of  sorrow  which  above  me  floated, 

Trailing  their  sable  robes  before  my  sight, 
In  thy  sweet  presence,  silently,  unnoted, 

Have  vanished,  and  bright  day  succeeded  night. 

I  love  thee  !  'T  is  no  weak  or  foolish  dreaming, 

The  passing  fancy  of  an  idle  hour ; 
But  like  the  sunshine,  full  from  heaven  streaming, 

In  all  its  noontide  glory,  pomp,  and  power, 
It  fills  my  being  with  a  deep  devotion 

Which  only  those  who  truly  love  can  know, 
And,  as  the  moon  affects  the  tides  of  ocean, 

So  causest  thou  my  love  to  ebb  and  flow. 

I  love  thee  !  and  my  thoughts  are  fondly  turning 

To  when  within  thy  presence  I  was  brought, 
And,  all  unconscious,  happily  was  learning 

A  lesson  which  in  Eden  first  was  taught. 
That  blessed  hour  with  many  a  joyous  vision, 

Most  happy  dreams,  fond  hopes  and  pure  desires, 
Within  my  memory's  bright  and  fair  elysian 

Is  lighted  now  by  love's  warm,  quenchless  fires. 

I  love  thee  !    Do  not,  dear  one,  I  implore  thee, 

Turn  from  my  words  disdainfully  away, 
Nor  doubt  my  truth  when  saying,  I  adore  thee, 

And  shall  as  long  as  reason  holds  its  sway. 
My  heart,  with  all  its  deep  and  true  affection, 

I  lay  confidingly  upon  thy  shrine  ; 
Accept  it,  and  through  life  the  recollection 

Shall  be  to  thee  a  joy  almost  divine. 

"  That  is  not  so  bad,"  my  wife  said,  "  and  I  only  wish 
you  would  address  as  pleasing  ones  to  me.  Your  passion 
ate  pleadings,  though,  I  presume,  had  no  effect  on  the 
young  lady  addressed  ?  " 

"  Well,  I  don't  know  about  that,"  I  replied.  "  The  truth 
is,  I  met  you  shortly  after  I  sent  them,  and  —  well,  I 


OUT  OF  TOWN.  157 

did  n't  follow  up  any  advantage  I  may  have  gained  there 
by,  nor  pressed  my  suit  as  I  would  otherwise  have  done." 

"  Which,  doubtless,  you  have  since  regretted  ?  "  my  wife 
said  inquiringly. 

"  No,"  I  replied,  slowly,  uttering  my  words  as  if  I  were 
considering  the  matter.  "  I  am  not  certain  that  I  regret 
it  in  the  least.  If  you,  now,"  I  said,  speaking  more  briskly 
and  decisively,  "  had  turned  away  from  me,  I  might  have 
regretted  the  course  affairs  took,  and  taken  to  billiards  or 
some  other  disreputable  games." 

"  Is  billiards  a  disreputable  game  ?  "  asked  my  wife.  "  I 
was  under  the  impression  that  it  was  of  an  innocent  char 
acter." 

"  Oh,"  I  replied,  "  one  of  the  newspapers  has  recently 
discovered  that  it  is  entirely  unworthy  of  a  gentleman's 
attention.  Though,  when  I  witnessed  Monsieur  Berger's 
playing  a  few  years  ago,  I  thought  there  was  poetry  in 
billiards." 

"  And  who,  pray,"  asked  my  wife,  "  is  Monsieur  Ber- 
ger?" 

"  Monsieur  Berger,"  I  replied,  "  is  a  Frenchman,  a 
native  of  Lyons,  and  a  man  of  considerable  weight,  doubt 
less,  in  his  own  country,  as  indeed  he  is  in  this,  since  he 
weighs  —  or  did,  when  in  this  country  —  about  three  hun 
dred  pounds.  Of  course,  his  figure  is  rotund,  and  seems 
like  an  immense  billiard  ball,  crowned  with  a  smaller  one, 
which  represents  his  head.  He  is  quite  bald  ;  his  eyes  are 
small,  black,  and  sparkling  ;  his  mouth  large,  and  his  coun 
tenance,  when  in  repose,  uninteresting ;  but  when  he  is 
speaking,  or  engaged  in  his  favorite  game,  it  lights  up  with 
a  smile  that  attracts  and  rivets  attention.  There  is,  doubt 
less,  much  humor  in  his  composition ;  and  that  he  is  kind 
and  generous  in  disposition,  his  career  here  fully  proved 
He  regards  the  ivory  balls,  with  which  he  plays,  almost  as 
a  father  does  his  children,  addressing  them  by  pet  names 
and  terms  of  endearment,  as  they  move,  seemingly  en- 


158  OUT  OF   TOWN. 

dowed  with  life,  here  and  there,  at  his  bidding.  What 
Morphy  is  in  the  world  of  chess,  that  is  Berger  in  the 
realm  of  billiards,  —  king,  emperor,  czar  over  all  competi 
tors.  Marvellous,  ay,  almost  miraculous,  is  his  play ;  and 
yet,  though  every  one  sees  how  it  is  done,  none  are  able  to 
follow  it.  He  causes  the  balls  to  accomplish  wonderful 
feats.  At  his  bidding,  and  simply  at  the  touch  of  his  cue, 
they  run  along  the  elevated  edge  of  the  table  ;  they  move 
half-way  across  the  table,  and  then  return  to  the  point 
from  whence  they  started;  they  gather  together  in  one 
corner ;  they  revolve  around  a  hat ;  they  leap  into  a  hat, 
and  perform  other  strange  and  curious  feats." 

"  Have  you  seen  all  this,  Mr.  Gray  ?  "  asked  my  wife,  in 
credulously. 

"  I  have,  my  dear,  and  more,"  I  replied. 

"  When  ?  "  she  demanded. 

"  You  remember,  perhaps,  the  afternoon  I  left  you  at  the 
door  of  your  cousin's  house  in  Tenth  Street,  saying  I  would 
return  in  ten  minutes  ?  " 

"  I  should  think  I  ought  to,  Mr.  Gray,"  said  my  wife, 
somewhat  reproachfully  ;  "  for  you  kept  me  waiting  from 
five  o'clock  till  ten  in  the  evening,  before  you  returned.  I 
am  not  apt  to  forget  such  acts  of  impoliteness,  even  after 
the  lapse  of  years." 

"  But  I  apologized  to  you,  my  dear,  for  my  dilatoriness, 
I  remember,"  I  said. 

"  Apologized  !  You  only  told  me  you  met  a  friend  who 
asked  you  to  dine  with  him,  and  you  went.  I  don't  regard 
that  as  an  apology." 

"  Well,  never  mind  about  it  now,  my  dear,"  I  said  ;  "  it 's 
long  since  past,  and,  I  trust,  forgiven.  At  any  rate,  that 
night  I  met  Berger.  I  dined  at  a  French  restaurant  with 
Gignoux,  the  artist.  The  great  billiard-player  also  dined 
there  ;  and  after  dinner,  which  was  an  hour  and  a  half 
long,  and  consisted  of  ten  courses,  —  first,  soup  ;  second, 
fish  " 


OUT  OF  TOWN.  159 

"  Never  mind  about  the  courses,  Mr.  Gray,"  interrupted 
my  wife  ;  "  tell  me  about  Berger." 

"  Well,  after  dinner,"  I  repeated,  "  I  was  introduced  to 
Berger.  His  hand  was  as  soft  and  plump  as  a  woman's, 
my  dear,  and  he  wore  a  ring  on  the  middle  finger  of  his 
left  hand,  a  diamond,  set  around  with  blue  stones  :  what 
do  you  call  them  ?  " 

"  Turquoise,  I  presume  you  mean,"  replied  Mrs.  Gray. 

"  Yes,  I  think  you  're  correct.  Well,"  I  continued,  "  al 
though  Berger  spoke  scarcely  a  word  of  English,  and  my 
knowledge  of  French  is  not  very  extensive,  we  managed 
to  hold  a  brief  conversation  together,  by  the  help  of  Gig- 
noux,  who  stood  near.  Afterward,  we  went  to  Phelan's 
room,  and  saw  Berger  play  a  game  of  billiards  with  one 
of  our  best  American  players,  Phelan  himself,  who  made, 
however,  but  thirty-three  points  to  Berger's  one  hundred. 
Now,  what  do  you  think  of  that,  my  dear  ?  " 

"  As  I  am  unacquainted  with  the  game,  my  opinion 
would  be  worth  nothing,"  she  answered ;  "  but  if  you  will 
explain  it  to  me,  I  shall  be  perhaps  better  able  to  answer." 

"  Billiards,  my  dear,"  I  said,  taking  a  position  before  the 
fire,  on  the  rug,  from  which  I  had  retired  when  the  ten- 
minute  business  came  up,  —  "  billiards,"  I  repeated,  impres 
sively,  "  is  an  ingenious  kind  of  game,  invented,  I  believe, 
by  a  Frenchman,  and  played  on  a  rectangular  table,  with 
white  and  red  ivory  balls,  which  are  driven  by  a  cue,  —  a 
stout  stick,  five  or  six  feet  in  length.  This  instrument  the 
player  holds  in  his  right  hand,  resting  it  over  the  left,  sup 
ported  by  the  forefinger  and  thumb.  The  table  on  which 
the  game  is  played  is  about  twelve  feet  long  and  six  wide, 
or,  rather,  in  the  exact  form  of  an  oblong.  The  bed  of  the 
table  is  generally  of  marble  or  slate,  covered  with  fine 
green  cloth,  and  the  edge  surrounded  with  elastic  cushions, 
to  prevent  the  balls  rolling  off  and  to  make  them  rebound. 
There  are  six  holes,  or  pockets.  These  are  affixed  to  the 
four  corners  and  midway  of  the  table,  opposite  to  each 


1GO  OUT  OF  TOWN. 

other,  to  receive  the  balls  in  playing.  The  Frenchman's 
table,  however,  —  which  he  brought  with  him,  —  was  with 
out  these  pockets,  the  disuse  of  which  makes  the  game 
more  scientific  and  difficult  to  play.  Indeed,  Berger's 
game,  on  his  own  table,  was  as  much  superior  to  the  game 
as  usually  played  in  this  country  as  the  American  game  is 
to  the  schoolboy's  game  of  marbles.  Still  the  American 
game  has  its  votaries,  and  there  are  those  who  believe  that 
the  great  Frenchman  would  be  conquered  if  he  played  the 
usual  game  of  the  country  and  on  American  tables.  Ber 
ger's  table,  I  think,  was  larger  than  those  used  in  this 
country." 

"  But  you  have  not  yet  described  to  me  the  game  itself. 
I  know  no  more  what  constitutes  the  playing  and  winning 
of  the  game  than  if  you  had  not  spoken  a  word  about  it. 
Do  you  play  it,  Mr.  Gray  ?  " 

"  I  confess  that  I  do  not.  My  education  in  that  respect 
has  been  sadly  neglected,  so  that  it  is  little  wonder  I  can 
not  make  the  game  clear  to  your  understanding." 

"  Well,  no  matter,"  replied  the  amiable  woman.  "  I 
have  at  least  been  interested  in  what  you  have  told  me 
respecting  this  wonderful  player,  and  his  powers." 

"  Since  Berger  was  here,  another  celebrated  French 
player  has  visited  us.  His  name  is  Pierre  Carme,"  I  said  ; 
"  and  though  he  failed  to  play  with  Kavanagh,  a  celebrated 
American  player,  yet  he  is  probably  an  equal  in  the  game 
to  Berger  himself.  And  now,  my  dear,  as  the  fire  is  get 
ting  low,  and  the  voice  of  my  pet  chanticleer  warns  me 
that  daylight  is  approaching,  I  think  we  had  better  retire, 
and  endeavor  to  get  a  few  hours'  sleep." 

And  we  retired. 


OUT  OF  TOWN.  161 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

A  Rainy  Sunday.  — An  Equinoctial  Storm.  • — Van  der  Palm.  — A  Com 
fortable  Feeling.  —  Gathering  my  Harvest.  —  A  Biblical  Reference.  — A 
Catalogue.  —  Gold-diggers  vs.  Potato-diggers.  —  A  Doubter. — Thomas. 
A  Barrel  of  Ale.  —  Aleing.  —  How  to  open  a  Barrel  of  Ale.  —  A  lively 
Mood.  —  Breaking  a  Commandment.  —  "  Ha !  ha !  "  —  October's  Brew- 
age. 

was  a  rainy  Sunday.  One  of  the  half-dozen 
equinoctial  storms  that  always  come  in  the 
autumn  was  raging.  The  wind  was  stripping 
the  leaves  from  the  trees  in  the  most  summary  manner. 
The  russet,  golden,  and  scarlet  robes  which  the  forest  had 
worn  were  being  torn  into  shreds  and  patches,  and  scat 
tered  broadcast  over  the  land.  Only  the  woodbine  cling 
ing  to  the  veranda  in  front  of  my  cottage  retained  its  green 
leaves,  and  even  a  sprig  or  two  of  fresh  blossoms  scented 
the  air.  The  "  melancholy  days  "  had  indeed  come  ;  and 
though  out-of-doors  it  was  sad  enough,  within  nothing 
could  be  more  cheerful.  The  fire  blazed  on  the  hearth  ; 
Mrs.  Gray  was  reading  a  sermon  by  Van  der  Palm,  an 
erudite  old  Dutchman,  who  was  born  a  hundred  years  ago 
in  Rotterdam,  and  who  afterward  became  a  professor  in 
the  University  of  Leyden,  and  was  greatly  esteemed  for 
his  piety  and  learning  ;  and  the  children  were  variously 
engaged  in  reading,  roasting  chestnuts,  and  the  Biblical 
play  of  Noah's  Ark.  I,  in  a  somewhat  contemplative 
mood,  stood  at  the  window  gazing  upon  the  dreary  land 
scape,  and  contrasting  the  without  with  the  within. 

The  feeling  I  possessed  was  a  very  comfortable  one,  for 
I  knew  that  my  crops  were  safely  housed  ;  that  there  was 
11 


162  OUT   OF  TOWN. 

a  barrel  of  ale  in  my  cellar ;  several  tons  of  coal  and  cords 
of  wood  in  my  woodshed ;  and  a  happy  household  under 
my  roof-tree. 

"  In  regard  to  getting  in  my  crops  and  opening  my  bar 
rel  of  ale,  I  desire,"  I  said  to  Mrs.  Gray,  "  to  say  a  few 
words." 

My  wife  gave  me  to  understand  that  I  might  say  as 
many  as  I  liked. 

"  I  think  I  told  you,"  I  said,  "  that  I  remained  at  home 
yesterday  expressly  to  gather  my  harvest.  I  am  happy  to 
say,  my  dear,  that  I  fully  accomplished  it.  In  the  morn 
ing,  after  reading  the  papers  of  the  day,  I  proceeded  to 
take  a  view  of  the  garden.  I  walked  around  it  several 
times,  and  took  an  accurate  memorandum  of  its  contents. 
Then  I  came  into  the  house,  and  drank  a  glass  of  ale  and 
cut  a  pie,  for  I  was  alike  thirsty  and  possessed  of  a  good 
appetite.  Then  I  added  up  in  my  memorandum-book  the 
entire  quantity  of  vegetables  to  be  harvested.  And  what 
do  you  think  was  the  result  ?  " 

"  I  am  certain,"  Mrs.  Gray  replied,  "  I  cannot  tell ;  but 
I  suppose  no  large  quantity,  for  I  notice  our  barns  are  not 
bursting  with  plenty,  neither  are  our  presses  running  over 
with  new  wine." 

Now,  as  we  have  only  one  small  shed,  and  not  a  barn, 
on  the  premises,  and  as  all  the  presses  we  possess  are  the 
few  contained  in  the  house,  and  which  are  termed  clothes- 
presses,  this  Biblical  reference  did  not  strike  me  as  being 
particularly  applicable.  But  I  said  nothing  in  reply  there 
to,  and  contented  myself  with  reading  aloud  from  my  note 
book  as  follows :  — 

14  heads  of  white  cabbages. 

3  "        red 

6  dozen  ears  of  sweet  corn. 

4  "      "         "  pop "  "     for  the  children. 
8      "      "         yellow  "     for  the  fowls. 

2  pecks  of  onions. 
10  large  pumpkins. 


OUT   OF  TOWN.  168 

17  small  pumpkins 

4  bushels  of  turnips. 
15         "          potatoes. 

1  quart  of  nasturtiums. 

1  peck  green  tomatoes  for  pickling. 

2  bushels  of  carrots. 
1  bushel  of  parsnips. 

1          "         beets,  and 

5  bunches  of  grapes,  slightly  frostbitten. 

"  Not  a  bad  show,"  I  said,  "  for  less  than  an  acre  of 
ground,  and  considering,  too,  that  we  have  gathered 
through  the  summer  many  vegetables  for  our  table,  not, 
of  course,  enumerated  in  this  catalogue." 

"  It  certainly  sounds  very  largely,"  said  my  wife,  "  and 
I  only  trust  it  will  turn  out  as  well." 

"  It  has,"  I  said ;  "  every  article  therein  enumerated  is 
already  garnered,  and,  if  there  be  any  difference,  it  is  that 
some  of  the  quantities  overrun  my  estimate.  Yester 
day  afternoon,  although  you  may  not  be  aware  of  it,  I 
worked  like  a  farmer.  I  literally  gained  my  bread  by  the 
sweat  of  my  brow.  Gold-diggers  may  know  pleasure  in 
their  occupation,  and  grave-diggers  may  even  find  a  kind 
of  sad  amusement  in  their  business ;  but  I  doubt  very 
much  if  any  one  ever  took  any  delight  in  digging  potatoes. 
It  gives  one  an  awful  crick  in  the  back ;  and  then  the  pro 
cess  of  stooping  down  to  pick  them  up  after  they  are  dug, 
is  very  much,  to  my  thinking,  like  what  warping  the  spinal 
column  over  a  low  fire  would  be.  I  confess  I  would  much 
rather  lose  all  my  potatoes  than  have  the  same  labor  to  go 
over  again." 

"  But  I  thought,"  said  my  wife,  "  that  Michael  dug  the 
potatoes,  and  that  you  did  little  more  than  direct  him  in 
his  operations.  I  am  sure  you  passed  the  greater  part  of 
the  afternoon  in  the  house." 

"  Oh,  there  you  are  greatly  mistaken,"  I  said  ;  "  for  I  am 
quite  certain  that,  with  the  exception  of  the  little  time  I 
was  with  my  savage  literary  friend,  I  was  digging  potato  V 


164  OUT  OF  TOWN. 

"  Well,  as  you  went  to  your  friend's,"  said  the  matter-of- 
fact  woman,  "  at  about  one  o'clock,  and  did  n't  return 
home  until  nearly  five  o'clock,  it  certainly  appears  to  me 
that  you  could  have  given  little  attention  to  getting  in 
your  vegetables." 

"  Pooh,  pooh  !  "  I  replied ;  "  by-and-by,  perhaps,  you  '11 
question  the  fact  of  my  having  got  in  any  vegetables  at 
all." 

"  Well,  the  truth  is,"  she  answered,  "  I  shall  be  in  doubt 
in  the  matter  until  I  see  them." 

''  Perhaps,"  I  said,  somewhat  vexed,  "  you  would  like  to 
put  your  fingers  upon  the  potatoes  and  taste  of  the  cab 
bages  before  you  will  believe.  And  perhaps,  too,"  I  con 
tinued,  "  you  will  doubt  whether  I  have  a  barrel  of  ale  in 
the  cellar  ? " 

"  No,"  she  replied,  "  for  of  it  I  have  tasted." 

"  And  a  very  good  reason  it  is  for  believing,"  I  answered. 
"  But  if  you  had  assisted  in  opening  it,  you  would  have 
received  much  more  positive  proof  of  its  presence." 

Mrs.  Gray  simply  said  "  ah  ?  "  interrogatively,  and  com 
menced  laughing. 

u  October  ale,  my  dear,"  I  continued,  not  heeding  her 
laughter,  "  when  it  is  new,  is  exceedingly  lively,  and  in 
tapping  a  barrel  of  it,  you  should  be  lively  yourself.  I  had 
much  trouble,  as  you  are  aware,  in  getting  that  barrel  into 
the  cellar.  I  think  I  was  two  hours  about  it.  Then  I 
waited  two  days  for  it  to  settle  before  tapping  it.  I  should 
not  have  opened  it  then,  but  that  you  said  you  would  like 
a  glass  of  it  at  lunch.  I  was  just  ready  to  go  to  the  city, 
but,  having  five  minutes  to  spare,  I  consented  to  employ 
that  time  in  tapping  the  ale.  I  afterward  wished  I  had 
not ;  for,  when  I  attempted  to  insert  the  wooden  faucet 
into  the  barrel  by  driving  in  the  spigot,  whether  the  cun 
ning  of  my  hand  gave  out,  or  whether  past  successes  in 
this  line  begat  carelessness  on  my  part,  I  cannot  tell ;  but, 
although  the  plug  went  in,  the  faucet  somehow  refused  to 


OUT  OF   TOWN.  165 

follow,  and  the  jolly  ale,  finding  a  vent,  came  flying  out  in 
the  liveliest  of  moods,  knocking  the  faucet  out  of  my  hand, 
and  pouring  itself  in  a  foaming  stream  over  the  cellar 
floor.  I  tried  to  stop  it  by  placing  my  hand  over  the  hole, 
but  with  little  success  ;  for  the  ale  forced  its  way  through 
my  fingers,  spirting  in  many  streams  over  me,  and  blind 
ing  me  with  its  spray.  The  lighted  candle,  which  the 
gloom  of  the  cellar  made  it  necessary  for  me  to  carry,  was 
put  out,  and  I  was  left  in  comparative  darkness.  My  po 
sition  was  an  unpleasant  one,  and  what  to  do  puzzled  me 
sadly.  If  I  took  my  hand  off  of  the  vent  to  grope  in  the 
dark  for  the  faucet,  I  should  lose  all  my  ale,  and  to  remain 
in  the  position  I  was  much  longer,  was  but  doing  little 
better.  I  endeavored,  by  shouting,  to  make  myself  heard 
above  stairs ;  but,  whether  the  baby  cried  so  loudly  as  to 
prevent  you  from  hearing  me,  or  what  it  was,  I  do  not 
know ;  but,  at  all  events,  I  failed  in  bringing  to  my  aid  any 
assistance.  I  endured  this  position  of  affairs  patiently  for 
a  few  minutes  longer,  hoping  for  the  best,  until  I  heard 
the  whistle  of  the  approaching  train  which  was  to  have 
carried  me  to  town;  then,  rendered  desperate,  I  wished 
the  ale  in  Jericho,  and  taking  my  hand  from  the  vent,  went 
up-stairs,  leaving  the  ale  to  flow  in  peace.  The  result  was 
that  I  lost  a  half-barrel  of  ale,  ruined  my  clothes,  missed 
my  train,  and  broke  —  what  was  worse  than  all  —  into  a 
great  many  pieces  the  Third  Commandment.  I  don't  know- 
that  I  should  have  broken  it  as  extensively  as  I  did,  if  you 
and  Miss  Floy  had  not  laughed  at  me  so  provokingly  when 
I  made  my  appearance  and  told  you  what  had  happened." 

"  It  was  too  bad,"  said  my  wife ;  "  but  you  did,  look  so 
funny.  Your  hair  and  whiskers  were  covered  with  foam, 
and  your  clothes  were  dripping  wet.  You  seemed  half- 
drowned,  and  a  more  beery-appearing  individual  I  never 
beheld.  I  have  to  laugh  every  time  I  think  of  it." 

And  my  wife  "  he  !  he'd  ! "  in  a  miserable  little  way, 
which  was  even  then  exceedingly  provoking.  I  said  noth- 


166  OUT  OF  TOWN. 

ing,  however,  but  stood  quietly  at  the  window  and  gazed 
upon  the  wet  and  dreary  landscape. 

When  Mrs.  Gray  had  exhausted  her  risible  efforts,  she 
asked  me  how  I  managed  to  save  half  a  barrel  of  the 
ale. 

"  Because,"  I  said,  "  the  barrel  of  ale  the  Taylors  sent 
fortunately  came  in  two  half-barrels,  and,  as  I  only  tapped 
one  of  them  on  that  occasion,  the  other  remained  full." 

"  And  you  were  more  careful,  I  presume,"  she  remarked, 
"  when  you  came  to  open  that  than  you  were  when  open 
ing  the  first." 

"  I  was.  And  now,  my  dear,  if  you  have  no  objection," 
I  said,  "  I  will  draw  a  pitcher  of  October's  brewage,  pure 
and  creamy,  fragrant  of  hops  and  malt  new  made,  and  we 
will  together  drink  thereof." 

And  we  drank. 

Later  in  the  day,  when  it  had  ceased  raining,  and  a  dim, 
gray  mist  lay  softly  upon  the  earth,  wrapping  the  landscape 
in  its  chilly  folds,  I  took  a  walk  down  to  the  Bronx.  A 
thin  veil  hung  over  the  water,  and  the  trees  bordering  its 
banks  loomed  spectrally  through  the  fog,  their  slender 
limbs  bare  of  leaves,  and  their  trunks  moist  and  slimy. 
Everything  bore  an  ashen  hue,  save  where  the  earth, 
showing  through  the  wet  and  rotting  leaves,  appeared 
brown  and  dingy.  Not  a  sound  arose  to  break  the  silence 
of  the  scene,  and  the  very  water  of  the  stream  lay  under 
the  fog  with  a  sense  of  weight,  as  it  were,  upon  its  bosom. 
All  the  scene  was  one  of  gloom,  and  I  thought  that  nature 
had  indeed  spread  her  pall  upon  the  earth  for  the  dying 
year  to  rest  herself  under.  The  landscape  oppressed  me 
with  sadness,  and  I  was  glad  to  return  to  the  warmth  and 
light  of  my  cottage. 


OUT  OF  TOWN.  167 


CHAPTER  XXVH. 

Evacuation  Day  in  Town.  — The  Twenty -fourth  and  the  Twenty -fifth.  —  The 
Veterans  of  1812.  —  How  my  little  ones  celebrated  the  Day.  —  Raising 
the  Flag.  —  Muskets  and  Swords.  — A  War-horse. —  A  New  Recruit.  — 
Her  Banner.  —  A  Scramble.  —  High  Pay.  —  Rations.  —  Drafted  Boys.  — 
Tin  Drums.  — A  March.  Disbanding. —  A  Girl's  Tea-party.  —  A  Boy's 
Circus.  —  A  private  Box.  — The  Eighty-second  Anniversary. 

;Y  little  ones  celebrated,  in  an  appropriate  manner, 
at  Woodbine  Cottage,  Evacuation  Day.  There 
was  a  slight  confusion  in  their  minds  as  to  the 
proper  day  whereon  to  celebrate  it.  This  arose,  doubtless, 
from  the  fact  that  the  commanding  general  in  town,  who 
had  an  engagement  to  attend  an  afternoon  tea-party  on 
the  twenty-fifth  instant,  which  he  wished  to  keep,  had,  in 
consequence,  ordered  his  soldiers  to  celebrate  the  day  on 
the  twenty-fourth.  My  young  folks  had  become  acquainted 
with  this  circumstance  through  the  newspapers ;  and,  as 
they  believe  everything  that  they  read  in  the  papers,  they 
naturally  supposed  that  the  latter  was  the  proper  day,  and 
that  I  was  mistaken  in  proclaiming  the  former  to  be  the 
right  one.  When  my  savage  literary  friend,  who  had  been 
a  captain,  or  something  of  that  kind,  in  the  old  Sixty-ninth 
Regiment,  assured  them  that  the  twenty-fifth  was  the  day, 
they  agreed  to  accept  it  as  such,  and  duly  keep  it. 

It  was  with  pleasure  I  observed  that  the  Veterans  of 
1812  also  kept,  with  music  and  flying  colors,  the  proper 
day  in  town.  That  handful  of  graybeards,  some  with  old 
regimental  cocked  hats  and  epaulets,  others  in  citizens' 
attire,  as  they  marched  down  Broadway  that  pleasant  after 
noon,  was  a  sight  worth  beholding.  As  they  moved  along, 


1C8  OUT  OF   TOWN. 

two  by  two,  to  the  inspiriting  sounds  of  the  drum  and  fife, 
they  seemed  to  have  renewed  their  youth ;  and,  scorning 
the  usual  support  of  their  canes,  they  shouldered  them,  as 
they  did  their  muskets  fifty  years  ago,  and,  with  brisk 
steps,  marched  gallantly  along.  There  was  no  tottering 
nor  feebleness  apparent  in  their  movements ;  the  bent 
backs  were  straightened ;  the  dim  eyes  regained  their 
brightness ;  and  the  wrinkles  of  age  were  smoothed  upon 
their  faces,  while  the  spirit  and  courage  of  brave  soldiers 
shone  on  their  countenances.  Some  of  these  veterans  were 
close  on  to  a  hundred  years  of  age,  and,  though  I  believe 
none  of  them  had  seen  service  in  the  Revolutionary  War, 
yet  a  few  of  them  had  lived  in  those  days,  and  had  fathers 
and  brothers  in  its  battles. 

The  sight  of  these  veterans  reminded  me  of  a  poem, 
written  by  my  friend  Seyton  May,  on  the  occasion  of  some 
of  the  soldiers  of  1812  visiting  Washington  city,  on  Jan 
uary  8th,  1855,  to  celebrate  the  anniversary  of  the  battle 
of  New  Orleans.  As  I  walked  along  the  crowded  street, 
after  they  had  passed,  I  repeated  to  myself  the  following 
verses  of  the  poem  :  — 

"  March  on  !  ye  are  not  old  to-day  ! 
The  lofty  music's  cheering  sound 
The  echo  of  the  past  hath  found  ! 
Ye  are  not  old  to-day  ! 

"  Yon  banner  in  your  line  is  old, 
'T  is  torn  and  faded  —  pierced  by  balls  ; 
It  waves  —  and  all  your  youth  recalls  — 
And  so  ye  are  not  old  ! 

"  But  yesterday  your  step  was  slow, 
But  yesterday  each  form  was  bowed  ; 
To-day,  —  of  well-won  victories  proud, 
Ready  again  for  war  !  " 

When  I  told  my  little  ones,  on  my  return  home,  that  I 
had  seen  these  brave  old  soldiers,  they  grew  quite  excited, 
and  said  that  I  ought  to  have  taken  them  into  town,  that 


OUT   OF    TOWN.  169 

they,  also,  might  have  seen  them.  They  would  have  pre 
ferred  it  to  going  to  Barnum's  Museum,  where  I  had  prom 
ised  to  take  them,  Saturday  afternoon.  They  proceeded 
to  tell  me  how  they  had  celebrated  the  day,  and,  as  I  am 
writing  this  chapter  especially  for  the  entertainment  of 
small  readers,  I  think  I  can  do  no  better  than  give  the 
account  as  nearly  as  possible  in  the  language  of  the  little 
boy  who  related  it. 

"  You  know,  papa,"  he  said,  "  that  the  first  thing  I  did 
this  morning,  when  I  got  up,  was  to  raise  the  flag  on  the 
staff  down  at  the  foot  of  the  garden,  and  the  next  thing  was 
to  eat  my  breakfast.  After  breakfast,  I  got  Em.  and  Sis 
to  assemble  round  the  flag-staff,  where  I  drilled  them  with 
muskets  and  swords,  —  only  we  did  n't  have  muskets  and 
swords,  you  know,  but  just  canes  and  such  kind  of  arms. 
Em.  had  your  charter-oak  cane  that  the  good  old  soldier, 
who  died  at  Hillside,  left  you,  and  Sis  had  the  gold-headed 
one,  made  from  '  Old  Ironsides.'  I  was  the  general,  and 
so  I  had  a  sword,  —  not  a  real  one,  but  just  the  carving- 
knife,  not  the  best  one,  but  the  other  one  ;  and,  then,  what 
do  you  think  I  got  ?  " 

"  Why,  I  think,"  I  replied,  "  that  you  got  a  whipping 
from  the  cook." 

"  No,  I  did  n't,  though,"  he  answered  ;  "  and  I  'd  just  like 
to  see  her  try  to  give  me  a  whipping  —  that 's  all.  No ;  I 
got  the  goat  and  made  a  war-horse  of  her  ;  and,  I  tell  you, 
\  she  was  gay.  It  was  just  as  much  as  I  could  do  to  keep 
on  her  —  she  danced  and  jumped  about  so.  TVe  marched 
in  procession  up  to  Mr.  Jack's,  and  there  we  got  a  new 
recruit,  Florry.  She  carried  a  flag  made  out  of  a  silk 
apron,  and  she  forgot  to  take  some  chestnuts  out  of  the 
pocket ;  so,  when  she  unfurled  it,  and  the  wind  waved  it 
about,  they  all  fell  out  upon  the  ground,  and  then  we  broke 
ranks,  and  scrambled  for  them." 

"  Yes,"  interrupted  Em.,  "  and  you  and  the  goat  got  the 
most." 


170  OUT  OF  TOWN. 

"  That 's  so,"  said  the  boy,  "  and  generals  ought  always 
to  have  the  most.  They  get  more  pay  than  privates,  you 
know." 

"  But  the  goat  was  n't  a  general,  was  she  ?  "  asked  Em. 

"  No,  not  exactly,"  he  answered  ;  "  but  never  mind  talk 
ing  about  that  now.  Papa  don't  care  anything  about  what 
the  goat  did  ;  he  wants  to  know  what  we  did.  Don't  you, 
papa  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  I  replied,  "  I  am  much  interested  in  your  account 
of  the  day's  proceedings." 

"  Well,  after  we  got  Florry,"  he  continued,  "  we  marched 
down  again  to  the  house,  where  I  dismounted,  and  went 
and  got  some  rations,  • — hard  tack,  you  know,  and  cheese. 
Then  I  drafted  a  couple  of  little  boys  who  came  along,  and 
made  'em  drummers." 

"Yes,"  said  Em.,  "and  you'd  better  tell  pa  what  they 
did." 

"  Oh,  hush !  do,  now.  If  you  keep  talking  so  much,  I 
shall  never  get  through." 

"  But  what  did  your  drummers  do  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  Oh,  nothing  much ;  they  just  drummed,  that 's  all,"  he 
replied. 

"  Yes,"  said  Em.,  "  and  they  drummed  holes  in  the  bot 
toms  of  two  tin  pails.  That 's  what  they  did." 

"  Oh,  they  were  old  pails,  papa,"  the  boy  said ;  "  they 
were  n't  good  for  much.  Em.  is  all  the  while  telling  every 
thing.  Ma  said  she  did  n't  care  " 

"  Oh  ! "  exclaimed  Em.,  "  what  a  story." 

"  Much,"  added  the  little  rascal. 

"  It  is  very  improper,"  I  said,  "  to  drum  holes  into  the 
bottoms  of  tin  pails,  —  very  improper,  indeed.  Tin  pails 
cost  money,  and  I  can't  afford  to  have  them  destroyed  in 
that  way,"  I  said. 

"  Well,  you  see,  papa,  they  did  n't  mean  to  do  it  —  but 
the  pails  had  poor  bottoms.  They  ought  to  have  been 
strong  enough  to  stand  a  little  beating  on  Evacuation 
Day." 


OUT   OF   TOWN.  171 

"  Well,  well,"  I  said,  "  I  suppose  I  will  have  to  over 
look  it." 

The  boy  gazed  at  his  sister  triumphantly. 

"  After  we  'd  eaten  our  rations,  we  marched  up  the  hill ; 
and  then  we  marched  down  again.  And  then  we  hurrahed 

O 

ever  so  many  times.  And  then  the  goat  ran  away  with 
me,  and  Gumbo  ran  after  the  goat,  and  I  fell  off ;  and  the 
dog  and  the  goat  had  a  fight,  and  Gumbo  whipped  Nan  ; 
and  then  we  disbanded,  and  came  into  the  house.  And  I 
cracked  some  nuts,  and  Em.  had  a  tea-party ;  but  she 
would  n't  invite  me  to  it,  so  I  had  a  circus  out  in  the  barn, 
and  I  guess  I  did  n't  ask  her  to  come  to  it." 

"  That  was  not  right,"  I  said  ;  "  Em.  should  have  asked 
you  to  her  party,  and  you  should  have  been  kind  enough 
to  have  invited  her  to  attend  your  circus." 

"  Papa,"  said  Em.,  "  I  would  have  asked  him,  but  he 
said  he  did  n't  want  to  go  to  a  girl's  party.  And  I  am 
sure  I  did  n't  care  about  his  coming ;  for  he  always  wants 
to  drink  the  tea  out  of  the  teapot,  and  pocket  all  the  sugar 
from  the  sugar-bowl,  and  eat  the  butter  off  of  the  plate." 

"You  have  such  a  little  bit  on  the  table,"  said  the 
naughty  boy,  "  that,  when  I  am  hungry,  all  of  it  don't  seem 
but  a  mouthful.  But  I  'm  going  to  have  another  circus 
next  Saturday,  papa,  and  then,  if  Em.  wants  to  come  to  it, 
she  can.  She  can  sit  in  the  private  box  all  day,  if  she 
likes,  and  see  me  stand  on  my  head." 

"  You  don't  mean  to  say  that  you  intend  to  stand  on 
your  head  all  day  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  Oh,  no  ;  only  a  minute  or  two  at  a  time,  you  know,"  he 
answered  ;  "  but  she  can  sit  in  the  box  all  day  if  she  wants 
to,  and  watch  me  when  I  do  it." 

"  Now,  papa,"  said  Em.,  "  will  you  tell  me  what  Evac 
uation  Day  is  for  ?  —  for  I  am  sure  I  don't  know." 

"  Evacuation  Day,  my  little  ones,"  I  said,  "  is  so  called 
because,  on  this  day,  eighty-two  years  ago,  the  British 
troops  evacuated  or  marched  out  of  the  city  of  New  York, 


172  OUT  OF  TOWN. 

of  which  they  had  possession,  and  the  American  troops 
marched  in.  Since  then,  every  year,  with  few  exceptions, 
the  day  has  been  appropriately  celebrated.  If  you  will 
read  your  "  History  of  the  Revolutionary  War,"  you  will 
find  the  account  fully  recorded.  And  now,  my  children, 
we  will  go  to  dinner. 


OUT  OF   TOWN.  173 


CHAPTER    XXVIII. 

Birthday  Dinners.  —  the  Pilgrim  Fathers.  —  Yankee,  Southern,  Indian, 
Puritan,  and  Cavalier  Blood.  —  Mary  Morey.  —  Pies  and  Puddings.  — 
The  Tenth  of  December.  —  A  Second  Centenary.  —  A  Golden  Wedding. 
Indian  Cruelty.  —  Blind-Mnn's-Buff.  — Asleep.  — Arrival  of  Visitors. 

•ELL,  my  dear,"  I  said,  as  I  lighted  the  lamp  in 
the  library,  "  no  crowned  head  in  all  Europe  has 
had  a  better  dinner  this  day  than  I ;  and  I  even 
doubt  if  one  of  the  descendants  of  the  Pilgrim  Fathers  — 
those  individuals  who  are  supposed  to  do  their  utmost  in 
the  way  of  eating  on  Thanksgiving  Day  —  will  rise  from  the 
table  to-morrow,  more  satisfied  with  his  meal,  or  better 
filled  than  I  now  am.  Still,  I  would  not  have  you  to  un 
derstand,  my  dear,  that  I  do  not  feel  called  on  to  do  my 
best  day's  eating  on  Thanksgiving  Day,  though  I  regard  it 
simply  as  preparatory  —  a  getting  the  house  into  order,  as 
it  were  —  for  that  greatest  of  all  feasts,  a  Christmas  dinner. 
You,  Mrs.  Gray,  who  have  the  blood,  not  only  of  the  hero 
of  Bennington.  but  of  one  of  the  noblest  of  Virginian  fam 
ilies,  in  your  veins,  can  easily  understand  why  I,  of  Indian, 
Puritan,  and  Cavalier  descent,  should  readily  accept  and 
celebrate,  not  only  Thanksgiving  Day  and  Christmas,  but 
such  festal  days  —  as  nearly  as  I  can  learn  when  they  oc 
curred  —  which  the  original  inhabitants  of  our  country  were 
wont  to  celebrate." 

"  This  is  first  time,  Mr.  Gray,"  said  my  wife,  "  I  ever 
heard  that  you  were  part  Indian,  though  I  have  always 
thought  your  complexion  was  tawny.  When,  pray,  did  you 
learn  this  interesting  fact  ?  " 

"  Oh,  years  ago,  my  dear,"  I  replied  ;  "  if  you  will  turn 


174  OUT   OF   TOWN. 

to  the  registry  in  the  old  family  Bible  —  the  large  one  in 
the  corner  of  the  room  —  you  may  read,  in  the  handwriting 
of  one  of  my  respected  progenitors,  a  marriage  between  an 
Indian  woman,  whose  baptismal  name  was  Mary  Morey, 
and  Ilezekiah  Gardner,  which  took  place  December  20th, 
1665.  Unfortunately,  the  place  where  it  occurred,  and  the 
name  of  the  officiating  minister,  are  not  recorded.  It  must 
have  taken  place,  however,  in  the  Province  of  Massa 
chusetts,  and  the  bride  probably  belonged  to  the  Narra- 
gansetts.  For  aught  that  I  know,  she  may  have  been  a 
daughter  of  Massasoit,  and,  consequently,  a  princess.  If 
so,  I  should  have  met  the  Prince  of  Wales,  when  here, 
upon  more  equal  ground  than  I  did.  Had  I  thought  of 
it  in  time,  I  should  have  claimed  the  right  of  our  little 
daughter  —  whose  birthday  dinner  we  have  just  assisted 
at  —  to  open  the  ball  at  the  Academy  of  Music  with  the 
youthful  prince." 

"  Now,  my  dear,"  interposed  my  matter-of-fact  wife,  "  you 
speak  ridiculously.  For  my  part,  I  am  very  thankful  that 
birthday  dinners  do  not  come  every  day.  I  think  hereafter 
I  will  not  use  brandy  in  the  mince-pies,  nor  put  wine  into 
the  pudding-sauce.  You  partake  too  largely  of  both,  and 
the  liquor  in  them  seems  to  affect  you,  —  making  you  talk 
nonsense." 

"  A  capital  idea,  Mrs.  Gray,"  I  replied  ;  "  the  pie  and  the 
pudding  will  be  the  better  for  the  children  without  these 
additions  ;  and  as  for  me,  I  prefer  my  liquors  plain,  without 
being  united  with  pastry  or  sauce." 

"  I  fear,  Mr.  Gray,"  she  answered,  "  that  you  are  incor 
rigible,  and  that  it  will  be  better,  after  all,  for  me  to  have 
the  pies  and  pudding-sauce  as  I  now  do." 

"  If  you  suit  yourself,  my  love,  in  this  matter,"  I  said, 
"  you  may  be  assured  of  its  pleasing  me." 

Mrs.  Gray  simply  smiled. 

"  The  dinner,"  I  added,  "  was  really  admirable,  and  if  the 
one  on  the  twentieth  of  December  be  equal  to  it,  I  shall  be 
perfectly  satisfied." 


OUT  OF  TOWN.  175 

"  Why,"  asked  Mrs.  Gray,  "  do  you  name  the  twentieth 
of  December  ?  " 

"  Because,"  I  replied,  "  it  is  the  second  centennial  anni 
versary  of  the  Indian  marriage  referred  to  a  few  minutes 
ago." 

"  And  do  you  think,  Mr.  Gray,"  she  inquired,  "  that  it 
is  worth  our  while  to  celebrate  that  event  at  this  distant 
day?" 

"  Certainly,  my  dear,"  I  replied. 

"  Why,  what  have  we  to  do  with  it  ?  "  she  asked. 

We  may  not  have  a  great  deal  to  do  with  it ;  but  individ 
ually,  my  love,"  I  said,  "  I,  being  a  lineal  descendant  of 
that  couple,  am  probably  indebted  to  them  for  existence. 
I  have,  of  course,  no  desire  to  celebrate  the  anniversary  of 
their  marriage  every  year,  and  would  do  so  now  only  be 
cause  it  will  be  the  two  hundredth  anniversary.  Just  think 
of  it  for  a  moment,  my  dear  !  It  is  better  than  a  golden 
wedding  in  one's  family." 

"  Suppose,  then,  we  term  it,"  suggested  Mrs.  Gray,  "  a 
copper  wedding  ?  " 

"  Mrs.  Gray,"  I  uttered,  in  a  measured  tone,  as  I  rose 
from  my  chair  and  took  my  favorite  place  on  the  rug  before 
the  grate,  —  "  Mrs.  Gray,"  I  repeated,  "  if  you  wish  to  af 
front  me,  you  may  call  it  a  copper  wedding." 

And  I  jingled  half-a-dozen  pennies  within  my  pocket. 

"  Why,  the  truth,  notwithstanding  your  remark,  Mrs. 
Gray,  is,  that  a  more  noble,  ingenuous,  and  faithful  race 
than  the  Indian  never  run  its  course  on  the  globe." 

"  I  have  been  told,  on  the  contrary,"  she  said,  "  that  they 
were  cruel,  vindictive,  and  treacherous ;  that  they  had 
rather  meet  an  enemy  than  a  friend :  as  in  the  former  case 
they  could  exercise  the  natural  propensity  that  led  them 
to  delight  in  bloodshedding ;  while  in  the  latter  event  oc 
curring,  they  could  enjoy  only  a  moderate  degree  of  pleasure 
in  the  smoking  of  a  pipe  of  peace.  A  human  being's  scalp 
was  more  prized  by  them  than  a  costly  gift  of  furs  or  rarest 
plumes." 


176  OUT  OF   TOWN. 

"  Wrong,  my  dear,"  I  answered, —  "  all  wrong.  As  nature 
made  him,  before  the  white  man  invaded  his  hunting- 
grounds,  there  was  no  truer  being  on  the  earth  than  the 
Indian.  As  primitive  in  his  habits  and  simple  in  his 
desires  as  our  first  parents  before  the  fall ;  courageous  as 
a  lion  and  docile  as  a  lamb,  as  occasion  demanded,  he  was, 
in  many  respects,  a  better  man  than  any  of  the  followers 
of  Columbus  when  they  landed  on  the  shores  of  this  Con 
tinent." 

"  Very  well  spoken,  Mr.  Gray,"  said  my  wife,  approvingly ; 
"  I  like  to  see  men  stand  up  for  their  kin,  even  if  they  be 
Indians.  It  shows  —  if  you  will  excuse  the  expression  — 
pluck." 

"  Well,"  my  wife  added,  after  a  pause,  "  as  the  repetition 
of  this  dinner  will  not  occur  in  a  hundred  years,  and  as 
neither  you  nor  I  will  be  here  to  partake  of  it  at  that  time, 
I  will  consent  to  your  celebrating  the  anniversary  on  the 
twentieth  instant." 

"  Thank  you,"  I  replied  ;  "  and  if  you  will  only  let  it  be 
equal  to  Em.'s  birthday  one,  it  will  be  worthy  of  the  occasion. 
And  now,  little  ones,"  I  continued,  turning  to  the  children, 
who  were  playing  at  "  making  visits,"  in  a  corner  of  the 
room,  "  what  do  you  say  to  a  game  of  blind-man's-buff?  " 

Of  course  they  were  all  delighted  with  the  suggestion, 
and  Em.,  the  eldest  of  the  three,  immediately  bound  her 
eyes  with  a  handkerchief,  and  proclaimed  herself  to  be  the 
blind  man.  Then  ensued  a  half-hour's  play,  during  which 
time  paterfamilias  was  blinded  —  with  the  exception  of 
one  eye  —  more  than  once,  and  succeeded  in  catching  Miss 
Em.  several  times,  though  she  hid  behind  fire-screens,  and 
crept  under  chairs,  to  avoid  him.  The  lad  in  boots,  and 
the  eight-years'  old  girl,  were  like  crickets,  chirping  and 
jumping  about  the  floor.  Finally,  the  boy  rolled  himself 
up  in  the  carpet-rug  and  went  to  sleep ;  little  Mary  climbed 
into  her  mother's  lap,  and,  nestling  her  head  amidst  rich 
laces,  also  went  off  into  dream-land  ;  only  Em.  and  myself 


OUT  OF  TOWN.  177 

were  left  to  keep  up  the  game,  which  was  brought  to  a 
close  by  the  entrance  of  my  savage  literary  friend  who 
came  to  pass  the  evening  with  us. 

Then  the  maid  appeared,  who  carried  the  children  away 
to  the  nursery ;  and  as  they  vanished,  I  said  softly  to  Mrs. 
Gray,  "  The  meeting  of  the  club  for  the  evening  is  ended." 

11 


1/8  OUT  OF  TOWN. 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

Thanksgiving  Day ;  its  Origin ;  its  Elasticity.  —  The  Puritans ;  their  De 
scendants. —  The  Christian  Church. — The  Day  in  New  England  and 
New  York.  —  A  Cruel  Hoax.  —  Home !  —  Our  Poor  Brother.  —  Our 
Neighbor,  the  Widow. 

'HANKS  GIVING  Day,  my  dear,"  I  said  to  my 
wife,  as  I  went  into  the  library  from  the  Thanks 
giving  dinner-table,  "  like  Christmas,  as  the  old 
song  has  it,  comes  but  once  a  year." 

"  I  don't  know  about  that,"  answered  Mrs.  Gray.  "  I 
think  I  remember  of  celebrating  two  or  three  Thanksgiv 
ing  days  in  one  November,  not  many  years  ago.  The 
Governors  of  the  several  States  of  New  York,  Massa 
chusetts,  and  Connecticut  each  appointed  a  different  day ; 
and  it  was  my  good  fortune,  Mr.  Gray,  to  keep  it  in  each 
of  those  States." 

"  That  may  all  have  been,  my  dear,"  I  replied ;  "  but 
the  fact  as  to  there  being  but  one  Thanksgiving  Day 
a  year,  except  under  extraordinary  circumstances,  still, 
in  my  opinion,  is  incontrovertible.  Each  State  has 
been  accustomed  to  keeping  it  but  once  a  year;  and 
though  every  one  might  have  selected  a  different  day, 
yet  the  rule  as  to  there  being  but  one  Thanksgiving 
Day  still  holds  good.  Again,  you  might  assert,  with  the 
greatest  truthfulness,  that  every  day  in  the  year  is  a 
Thanksgiving  Day ;  and  I  am  certain  you,  my  dear,  should 
be  thankful  every  day  you  live  that  you  have  so  good  a 
husband  as  I  am,  even  as  I  am  thankful  that  I  have  so 
good  a  wife  as  you." 

My  wife  smiled,  and  drew  her  chair  a  little  nearer  to 
where  I  was  sitting. 


OUT  OF  TOWN.  179 

"  Like  Christmas,  too,"  I  continued,  "  it  is  a  day  of 
prayer  and  feasting.  Originating  in  New  England,  where 
it  was  instituted  by  the  Puritans,  at  a  time  when  the  festi 
val  of  Christmas  was  by  them  not  only  neglected  but  act 
ually  denounced,  it  answered  a  widely  felt  requirement.  It 
was  the  single  holiday  of  the  year,  —  the  sole  really  en 
joyable  day,  out  of  three  hundred  and  sixty-five,  that  the 
May-Flower  Pilgrims  and  their  descendants  had  to  look 
forward  to,  and  enjoy  when  it  came,  as  a  national  holiday. 
Still  it  was  little  more  —  hedged  around  as  it  was  by  puri 
tanic  customs  and  blue  laws  —  than  a  Sabbath  day  dove 
tailed  into  the  working-time  life  of  the  colonists,  possess 
ing  in  a  slight  degree  an  India  rubber-like  capacity,  that 
allowed  it  to  contain  the  few  innocent  pleasures  which  were 
denied  to  them  on  all  other  occasions.  Little  by  little, 
however,  as  the  strictness  of  the  Puritans'  character  dis 
solved  before  the  more  genial  nature  of  their  descendants, 
rural  delights  and  worldly  amusements  —  the  apple-bee, 
the  husking,  the  candy  frolic,  the  quilting-party,  the  sleigh- 
ride,  and  even  the  theatre  and  the  ball-room,  with  their 
separate  enticements  —  crept  in  among  the  sacred  offices 
of  the  day,  and  increased  its  popularity  and  the  welcome 
accorded  to  it.  Nearly,  if  not  all,  of  the  States  in  the 
Union,  now  celebrate,  with  due  observance,  this  excellent 
and  peculiar  New  England  festival." 

"  My  dear,"  my  wife  said,  as  I  paused  to  take  breath, 
"  you  talk  quite  like  a  book." 

"  While  the  Christian  Church  throughout  the  world,"  I 
continued,  not  heeding  her  interruption,  "  and  in  all  ages, 
has  never  been  without  some  festal  anniversary,  —  a  day 
not  chosen  from  the  Sabbath,  but  selected  from  the  work 
ing-time,  and  set  apart  for  purposes  of  praise  and  thanks 
giving,  —  the  Puritans  of  New  England,  Pilgrim  Fathers, 
as  they  are  reverently  and  lovingly  termed,  were,  until  the 
appointment  of  Thanksgiving  among  them,  possessed  of  no 
holy  festival.  In  the  Protestant-Episcopal  and  in  the  Ho- 


180  OUT  OF   TOWN. 

man  Catholic  Churches,  such  festivals  are  of  frequent  oc 
currence.  The  Christian  Year,  commencing  at  the  season 
of  Advent,  has  its  calendar  thickly  studded  with  similar 
festivals  commemorative  of  God's  gracious  protection  of, 
and  his  goodness  as  displayed  in  his  bounty  to,  man.  Al 
though  to  these  Churches,  therefore,  the  observance  of 
Thanksgiving  might  be  deemed  unnecessary,  yet  it  is,  I 
rejoice  to  perceive,  as  duly  celebrated  and  as  dearly  prized 
by  them  as  by  other  Christian  sects.  It  is  in  New  Eng 
land,  however,  and  among  the  lineal  descendants  of  the 
Pilgrim  Fathers,  that  Thanksgiving  Day  in  its  perfection  is 
to  be  found.  As  a  national  holiday,  it  is  there  regarded  as 
being  almost  if  not  quite  equal  in  importance  to  the  Fourth 
of  July.  On  this  day,  more  than  any  other,  do  families, 
long  separated  and  dispersed  abroad,  reassemble  around 
the  festal  board  and  about  the  blazing  hearth  under  the 
parental  roof.  This  day  do  fathers  and  mothers  select  to 
call  their  wandering  children  home ;  and  they,  bringing 
with  them  their  sons  and  daughters,  obey  the  call.  Once 
more  brothers  and  sisters  meet ;  once  more  the  old  home 
stead  resounds  with  the  merry  laughter  of  childhood,  and 
the  elders  live  over  again  in  their  offspring  the  days  of 
their  own  departed  youth.  At  these  reunions  old  memo 
ries  arise,  calling  up  old  tears  or  old  smiles ;  old  topics 
are  discussed,  old  stories  told,  old  hymns  sung,  and  old 
prayers  —  such  as  only  can  be  uttered  when  the  whole 
family  reassemble  in  the  old  home  —  are  offered." 

"  You  almost  make  me  wish,"  said  my  wife,  now  close 
beside  me,  "  I  were  a  New  Englander  by  birth,  that  so 
I  might  the  more  enjoy  her  peculiar  festival.  What  other 
day  does  she  celebrate  so  cordially  as  this  ?  " 

"  Oh,"  I  replied,  "  you  forget  there  is  Forefathers'  Day, 
which  commemorates  the  landing  of  the  Pilgrims,  or  Puri 
tans,  as  it  would  be  more  correct  to  term  them.  Do  you 
know  I  once  recited  some  verses  of  mine  at  a  New-Eng 
land  festival  held  in  commemoration  of  this  day  ?  " 


OUT  OF  TOWN.  181 

My  wife  said  that  she  did  not,  and  she  quite  doubted 
whether  I,  who  was  not  a  New  Englander,  had  ever  done 
so.  Thereupon  I  turned  to  my  scrap-book,  and  found  the 
following  lines,  which  I  read  to  her,  as  a  proof  of  my 
assertion :  — 

THE   LANDING   OF   THE   PILGRIMS. 

THEY  were  a  sturdy  race  of  men  — 

A  small  but  dauntless  band  — 
That  sailed  along  New  England's  coast, 

And  viewed  the  promised  land. 

Two  hundred  years  ago  and  more, 

These  pious  Pilgrims  came, 
To  build,  upon  a  savage  shore, 

A  Church,  a  home,  a  name. 

For  months  their  little  bark  has  sped, 

The  sport  of  boisterous  winds, 
Until,  at  last,  with  tattered  sails, 

An  anchorage  it  finds. 

Then,  on  its  deck  glad  hymns  of  praise, 

And  voices  loud  in  prayer, 
From  earnest  men  and  women  rise 

Upon  the  frosty  air. 

The  falling  snow  is  drifting  deep, 

The  wind  is  fierce  and  high, 
When  from  the  May-Flower's  icy  deck 

They  view  their  haven  nigh. 

No  verdant  landscape  meets  their  gaze, 

Nor  flower,  nor  foliage  bright; 
A  wild  and  snow-clad  wilderness 

Is  all  that  greets  their  sight. 

While,  here  and  there,  amidst  the  trees, 

Strange  forms  and  shadows  rise, 
That  come  and  go,  with  catlike  tread, 

And  watchful  lynxlike  eyes. 


182  OUT  OF  TOWN. 

But  hark  !  above  the  ocean's  roar, 

A  thrilling  cry  they  hear  ; 
It  is  the  Pequot's  ringing  whoop 

That  fills  their  startled  ear. 

For  one  brief  moment  shrinks  in  fear 

The  bravest  of  the  band, 
Till,  sword  in  rest,  Miles  Standish  speaks,  • 

"  God  holds  us  in  his  hand !  " 

Then  back  again  to  trusting  hearts 
Their  flying  courage  turns  ; 

Each  soul  upon  that  vessel's  deck 
With  zeal  and  glory  burns. 

What  tempted  these  brave  Christian  men, 
With  brave  and  Christian  wives, 

To  leave  behind  them  home  and  friends, 
And  peril  thus  their  lives  ? 

For  conscience'  sake,  for  peace,  for  faith, 

This  noble  little  flock 
Crossed  o'er  a  wide  and  stormy  sea, 

To  land  on  Plymouth  Rock. 

And  there,  amidst  December's  snows, 
They  kneel  them  down  to  pray, 

And  thank  their  God  who,  safe  thus  far, 
Has  brought  them  on  their  way. 

And  there,  amidst  December's  snows, 
Their  humble  homes  they  rear, 

And  teach  their  daughters  and  their  sons 
The  Lord  to  love  and  fear. 

And  there,  amidst  December's  snows, 

A  goodly  seed  was  sown, 
From  which  there  sprung  a  race  of  men 

Our  land  is  proud  to  own. 

And  there,  amidst  December's  snows, 
This  night  our  thoughts  will  stray, 

To  linger  near  our  mother's  shrine, 
And  bless  her  Pilgrim-day. 


OUT  OF  TOWN.  183 

"  So  much,  my  love,"  I  said,  "  for  my  appreciation  of 
Forefathers'  Day.  But,  to  come  back  to  Thanksgiving  Day. 
In  town,  though  duly  observed,  it  has  not  half  the  signifi 
cance  which  it  possesses  in  the  country.  The  city  simply 
regards  it  as  a  day  of  release  from  labor.  Wall  Street 
speculators  don't  go  down  town ;  the  Custom-House,  the 
Sub-Treasury,  the  banks,  and  many  places  of  business  are 
closed.  The  clinking  of  gold,  and  the  rustling  of  green 
backs  in  these  places  of  the  money-changers  are  unheard, 
and  the  ways  leading  thereto  are  quiet  and  deserted. 
Many  good  people  go  to  church  in  the  morning,  to  dinner 
in  the  afternoon,  and  to  the  theatre  in  the  evening.  Base 
ball  and  cricket  and  billiard  clubs  have  '  tournaments',  and 
military  and  target  companies  display  their  skill  in  hitting 
the  '  bull's-eye ; '  and  Jones,  Brown,  and  Robinson  come 
into  the  country  for  a  day's  fishing  or  shooting." 

"  What !  —  our  Jones,  our  Brown,  our  Robinson,  do  you 
mean,  my  dear  ?  "  asked  Mrs.  Gray.  "  I  am  certain  I  've 
seen  none  of  them  go  past  Woodbine  Cottage,  and  I  've 
been  sitting  at  the  window  ever  since  we  returned  from 
church." 

"  They  probably  went  by  while  we  were  in  church,  my 
dear,"  I  answered. 

"  Oh,"  said  my  wife,  "  that  may  be." 

"  Every  one,  in  short,"  I  continued,  "  who  could,  doubt 
less  kept  the  holiday  appropriately  ;  while  those  who  could 
not,  declared  the  day  to  be  a  Yankee  innovation,  and  not  to 
be  compared  with  the  Fourth  of  July  or  the  First  of  Jan 
uary.  But  even  these  poor  fellows  —  working  editors,  I 
imagine  —  managed,  no  doubt,  to  get  a  tenderer  slice  of 
turkey,  a  thicker  piece  of  pie,  and  an  extra  bottle  of  Ca- 
tawba,  than  fall  to  their  lot  at  common  unthanksgiving 
dinners." 

"  Poor  fellows,"  said  my  wife,  sympathizingly,  "  how  I 
pity  them.  You  ought  to  ask  them  all  out  to  Woodbine 
Cottage  some  day,  Mr.  Gray.  Will  you  ?  " 


184  OUT  OF   TOWN. 

"  Oh,  yes,"  I  replied,  "  often.  Do  you  remember,  my 
dear,  the  bitter  hoax  that  a  young  lad,  a  few  years  ago,  in 
a  spirit  of  thoughtlessness,  perpetrated  on  Thanksgiving 
Day  ?  " 

Mrs.  Gray  said  she  did  not. 

"  Well,"  I  continued,  "  he  caused  to  be  inserted  in  sev 
eral  of  the  newspapers,  a  notice  to  the  effect  that  bread 
and  meat  would  be  given  to  such  of  the  poor  of  the  city  as 
might  desire,  and  would  come  for  it  on  Thanksgiving 
morning,  at  Union  Square.  At  the  appointed  hour,  hun 
dreds  of  poor,  forlorn  creatures  appeared  with  baskets,  pre 
pared  to  receive  the  thanksgiving  offering.  Bitter  the  dis 
appointment  and  great  the  sorrow  among  them,  when, 
after  patiently  waiting  beside  the  equestrian  statue  of 
Washington  for  hours,  for  the  distribution  to  take  place, 
they  were  compelled  to  believe  themselves  the  victims  of  a 
cruel  and  unexampled  hoax,  and  that  neither  bread  nor 
meat  would  be  given  them  that  day.  Slowly  and  reluc 
tantly  the  vast  assemblage  dispersed ;  and  it  was  not  until 
late  in  the  afternoon,  that  the  last  mendicant,  who  had  hoped 
even  against  hope  itself,  drawing  her  thin  shawl  around  her 
shivering  form,  took  up  her  empty  basket,  and,  bearing  a 
heavy  heart  in  her  bosom,  wended  her  trembling  steps  to 
her  humble  home.  Her  home  !  yes,  if  a  damp,  dark,  and 
ill-ventilated  cellar,  or  a  garret  with  a  leaky  roof  and  broken 
windows,  can  possess  that  thanksgiving-like  name.  To  her 
home,  however,  she  went,  where  were  expectant  and  hun 
gry  little  ones,  perhaps,  who,  after  long  watching  for  their 
mother's  coming,  were  at  last  doomed  to  go  dinnerless  and 
supperless  to  their  beds  of  straw.  A  card  published  in 
one  of  the  daily  newspapers  stated  that  the  boy  was  peni 
tent,  and  sorrowed  for  his  cruel  act.  Let  us  hope  that  this 
was  so ;  and  may  the  lesson  his  thoughtless  and  cruel  deed 
taught,  keep  him  and  all  others  for  the  future  from  violat 
ing  the  golden  rule,  which  saith,  '  Do  unto  others  as  you 
would  that  others  should  do  unto  you.' " 


OUT  OF  TOWN.  185 

Here  I  observed  that  my  wife  wiped  her  eyes,  as  if  a 
tear  or  two  had  dimmed  their  sight,  and  straightway  she 
said  that  it  would  also  be  well  to  invite  these  poor  people 
out  to  Woodbine  Cottage.  When  I  invite  the  first-men 
tioned  "  poor  fellows,"  I  will  also  invite  the  last-named 
"  poor  people." 

"  Thanksgiving  Day  in  the  country,  my  dear,"  I  said,  "  is 
quite  different  from  what  it  is  in  the  city.  It  must  appear 
to  every  one  who  tills  the  earth,  and  plants  and  reaps 
thereof,  that  he  should  give  thanks  for  the  full  harvest 
which  has  been  granted  him  ;  that  he  should  give  praise  to 
God  that  his  barns  are  filled,  and  that  the  work  of  the 
year  is  nearly  ended,  and  that  a  season  of  rest  from  toiling 
in  the  fields  is  to  be  his.  He  can  go  to  church,  I  trust, 
with  a  clear  conscience,  —  if  he  sent  a  fat  turkey  to  the 
parson  before  going,  I  am  sure  he  will,  —  and,  after  listen 
ing  to  a  sermon  tending  to  illustrate  God's  wonderful  love 
and  goodness,  as  vouchsafed  to  the  children  of  men,  in 
bringing  peace  to  our  land,  and  causing  our  harvests  to  be 
plentiful,  can  return  home  and  partake  of  a  dinner,  such 
as  only  his  wife,  a  thrifty  housekeeper  of  twenty  or  more 
years'  reputation,  can  cook,  and  the  greater  part  of  which 
is  the  product  of  his  own  land,  without  fear  of  indigestion, 
or  the  many  ills  which  are  too  often  the  attendants  of  city- 
made  dinners,  following.  In  the  afternoon  he  will  go  and 
talk  with  his  neighbors,  and  learn  for  how  much  they  each 
sold  their  hay,  and  oats,  and  corn,  and  wheat ;  and  then  he 
will  come  home  to  tea ;  and,  perhaps,  in  the  evening,  he 
will  have  a  quiet  rubber  of  whist,  and  smoke  his  pipe,  and 
drink  a  mug  of  ale  or  cider ;  and  later  he  will  have  family 
prayers,  and  sing  a  hymn,  and  go  to  bed." 

"  A  very  good  description,  my  dear,"  said  my  wife,  "  of  a 
farmer's  Thanksgiving  Day." 

Which  sentiment  Miss  Floy  echoed,  and  Miss  Em.  de 
clared  the  whole  account  was  almost  equal  to  a  story. 

"  Thanksgiving  Day,"  I  said,  much  elated,  and  feeling  as 


186  OUT  OF  TOWN. 

if  I  were  addressing  an  audience,  "  is  but  the  forerunner  of 
Christmas,  —  the  most  joyful  festival  in  the  calendar.  Let 
those  of  us,  then,  who  have  pity  for  the  poor,  and  who 
say  to  ourselves,  on  next  Thanksgiving  Day  we  will  fill 
the  basket  of  our  poor  brother  with  bread ;  we  will  kill  the 
fatted  calf,  and  send  a  portion  of  it  to  our  neighbor,  —  the 
poor  widow  down  in  the  cellar,  —  remember  that,  before 
the  year  goes  round,  and  Thanksgiving  comes  again, 
our  poor  brother  may  be  dead,  and  our  neighbor,  the 
widow,  with  her  children,  perish  from  starvation.  When 
Christmas  arrives,  however,  our  poor  brother  will  doubt 
less  be  alive,  and  our  neighbor,  the  widow,  still  remain  in 
her  cellar,  surrounded  by  her  little  ones.  On  Christmas, 
then,  let  us  make  glad  their  hearts  by  crowning  their 
boards  with  plenty." 


OUT  OF   TOWN.  187 


CHAPTER   XXX. 

An  Early  Tea-party.  —  Rappings.  —  My  Neighbor  Joyce.  —  Celebrating  a 
Birthday. —A  Search. —  A  Hot  Punch  vs.  a  Cold  Punch.  —  Twenty 
Minutes.  —  Ungrateful.  —  A  Toast.  —  "  Never  again."  —  Rejoice.  — A 
Pleasant  "Walk.  —  A  Glorious  Fire.  —  A  Package  of  New  Books.—  A  Hot 
Punch. 

AM  passing  the  day  at  home,  by  myself.  The 
children  are  shut  up  in  the  nursery  along  with 
Miss  Floy,  who  is  teaching  their  young  ideas  how 
to  shoot.  My  esteemed  wife  has  gone  to  visit  a  neighbor. 
Singularly  enough,  she  received  her  invitation  at  a  very 
early  hour  this  morning.  Indeed,  it  came  before  any  of 
my  family  were  out  of  bed.  It  is  not  usual,  I  know,  to 
ask  visitors  to  one's  house  before  the  moon  goes  down,  and 
while  the  morning-stars,  peering  through  the  keen  atmos 
phere,  are  still  singing  together  in  the  heavens ;  but  cir 
cumstances  sometimes  make  it  necessary  to  invite,  even  at 
three  o'clock  A.  M.,  a  lady  friend  to  do  so.  My  neighbor 
himself,  a  respectable  man  of  forty  years  of  age,  came  with 
the  invitation.  At  first  when  I  heard  the  knocking  at  the 
door  and  saw  that  it  was  far  from  being  daylight,  I  thought 
it  was  "  spirit-rapping ; "  afterwards,  I  wondered  if  the 
house  were  on  fire,  and  an  early  traveller  going  by  had  not 
stopped  to  tell  me  of  it.  When  I  woke  Mrs.  Gray,  how 
ever,  and  called  her  attention  to  the  disturbance,  she  very 
coolly  said  it  was  Mr.  Joyce,  and  immediately  proceeded  to 
arise  and  dress  herself.  How  she  knew  who  it  was  I  can 
not  tell ;  but  when  I,  opening  the  window,  put  my  head 
out  into  the  frosty  air,  and  asked,  "  Who  is  there,  and 
what  do  you  want  ?  "  the  reply  came  back :  "  It 's  me, 
neighbor  Joyce,  and  I  want  Mrs.  Gray." 


188  OUT  OF   TOWN. 

"  What  for  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  Mr.  Gray,"  said  my  wife,  "  will  you  stop  asking  such 
foolish  questions,  and  close  that  window,  for  I  'm  catching 
my  death-cold  with  that  wind  blowing  upon  me." 

"  Certainly,  my  dear,"  I  replied,  "  in  a  minute.  Hark  ! 
neighbor  Joyce  is  saying  something,  and  your  talking  to 
me  prevents  me  from  hearing  him.  "  What  did  you  say  ?  " 
I  asked  outside ;  "  I  did  n't  catch  your  reply." 

"  We  're  celebrating  a  birthday  at  our  house,"  he  re 
peated. 

"  Whose  ?  "  I  shouted. 

"  I  don't  know,"  he  replied  ;  "  I  want  your  wife  to  come 
and  find  that  out." 

"  My  dear,"  I  asked,  bringing  my  head  inside,  "  what 
the  deuce  does  that  fellow  mean  ?  Is  he  crazy  ?  " 

"  Mr.  Gray,"  said  my  wife  impressively,  "  will  you  do  me 
the  favor  to  close  that  window  ?  " 

"  Certainly,  my  dear,"  I  answered  ;  "  but  what  the  dickens 
brings  Joyce  here,  at  this  hour,  to  celebrate  a  birthday  ?  " 

"  It  is  all  proper,  Mr.  Gray,"  she  replied ;  "  I  know  all 
about  it.  Now,  do  close  that  window." 

"  Yes,  yes,  in  a  minute.  Joyce,"  I  cried,  thrusting  my 
head  out  of  the  window,  "  does  your  invitation  extend  to 
me  and  the  children  ?  " 

"  I  guess  not,"  he  replied  ;  "  it 's  only  an  old  woman's 
tea-party." 

"  A  tea-party,"  I  echoed ;  "  well,  I  'm  fond  of  tea-parties 
myself;  but  is  n't  it  a  little  early  in  the  day  to  give  a  tea- 
party  ?" 

"  Oh,  don't  bother  me,"  said  Joyce  ;  "  you  don't  know 
how  badly  I  feel.  Is  n't  your  wife  most  ready  ?  " 

"  I  '11  see,"  I  answered.  "  My  love,"  inside,  "  are  you 
nearly  ready  to  go  to  this  tea-party  ?  Joyce  is  getting  im 
patient." 

"  Well,  he  '11  have  to  wait  until  I  find  my  Balmoral  skirt, 
at  all  events.  I  laid  it  on  the  outside  of  the  bed,  just  at  the 


OUT  OF    TOWN.  189 

foot,  when  I  undressed,  and  now  it 's  gone.  I  can't  find  it 
anywhere,  neither  in  the  bed  nor  under  the  bed.  One  of 
those  blessed  children  must  have  been  cold  in  the  night, 
and  come  and  got  it  to  cover  over  themselves.  I  do  wish 
you  'd  buy  more  blankets  and  quilts  ;  here  's  winter  upon 
me,  and  I  've  not  half  sufficient  for  all  the  beds.  Good 
ness  me !  what  can  have  become  of  that  skirt  ?  " 

"  Oh,  here  it  is,"  I  said  ;  "  I  put  it  over  my  shoulders,  to 
keep  me  warm,  when  I  went  to  the  window  to  talk  to 
Joyce." 

"  That 's  just  like  you,  Mr.  Gray,"  my  wife  replied. 
"  Will  you  please  to  close  that  window  ?  I  am  shivering 
with  cold." 

"  Certainly,  my  dear,"  I  replied ;  "  but  you  can't  be 
colder  than  Joyce,  outside  there,  pacing  up  and  down  the 
veranda.  Don't  you  hear  him  ?  Hark !  he  is  calling  to 
me." 

"  Well !  "  I  cried,  putting  my  head  out  of  the  window, 
"  what  do  you  want  ?  " 

"  Is  Mrs.  Gray  nearly  ready  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Yes,"  I  answered  ;  "  she  has  found  her  skirt  now,  and 
has  only  to  put  on  her  shoes  and  some  other  things,  and 
she  '11  be  down  in  about  twenty  minutes." 

"  Twenty  devils  ! "  he  shouted  —  let  us  hope  spasmodi 
cally  —  "I  can't  wait  all  that  time.  I  shall  go  crazy  if 
she  don't  come  sooner." 

"  It  is  pretty  cold  out  there,  Joyce,  —  is  n't  it  ?  "  I  asked. 
"  How  would  a  hot  whiskey-punch  go  ?  " 

"  Hang  your  punch ! "  answered  Joyce.  "  Ask  Mrs.  Gray 
to  please  hurry." 

"  My  dear,"  I  said,  bringing  in  my  head,  "  Mr.  Joyce 
wants  to  know  if  you  '11  please  hurry." 

"  I  am  hurrying  as  fast  as  I  can,"  my  wife,  somewhat 
excited,  replied  ;  "  you  surely  don't  wish  me  to  go  without 
being  dressed,  —  do  you  ?  " 

"  Certainly  not,"  I  answered.  "  I  '11  go  down-stairs  and 
let  Joyce  in." 


190  OUT  OF   TOWN. 

"  Do  so,"  she  replied ;  "  and  tell  him  I  '11  be  ready  in 
five  minutes ;  but  please  shut  the  window  first." 

"  Joyce,"  I  cried,  putting  my  head  out  of  the  window, 
"  I  'm  going  down  to  let  you  in,  and  my  wife  will  be  ready 
in  five  minutes." 

"  Good !  "  cried  Joyce,  cheerily. 

And  then  I  did  close  the  window,  and  go  down-stairs. 

"  Joyce,"  I  said,  when  I  had  opened  the  door,  and  taken 
him  into  the  comfortable  library,  "excuse  my  appearance, 
old  fellow ;  I  did  n't  stop,  as  you  see,  to  array  myself  in 
purple,  as  I  thought  the  fine  linen  would  answer,  es 
pecially  as  I  didn't  want  to  keep  you  any  longer  out  in-the 
cold." 

"  You  're  very  kind,"  said  Joyce,  "  but  you  might  have 
thought  of  asking  me  into  the  house  fifteen  minutes  ago." 

"  Look  here,  Joyce,"  I  replied,  "  don't  be  ungrateful 
now.  I  did  think  of  it ;  but  what  with  your  talking  to 
me  outside,  and  Mrs.  Gray  inside,  I  really  had  no  op 
portunity." 

"  Humph  ! "  ejaculated  Joyce. 

"  Joyce,"  I  said,  "  I  don't  think  we  've  time  enough  to 
heat  water,  so  we  '11  take  it  cold.  Here 's  a  bottle  of 
choice  whiskey ;  help  yourself."  Joyce  did  so. 

"  Joyce,"  I  said,  "  a  toast,  —  Many  happy  returns  of  the 
day."  ' 

"  No,"  he  said,  gloomily,  rubbing  his  hands  ;  "  never 
again,  never  again." 

"  Oh,  I  've  heard  husbands  say  that  before,  Joyce.  Say 
ing  so  don't  amount  to  anything.  They  always  forget 
they  've  said  it." 

"  But  I  never  shall,"  said  Joyce. 

"  All  right,"  I  answered ;  "  but,  Joyce,  you  now  have 
occasion  to  rejoice." 

"  Hang  your  bad  puns,"  said  Joyce ;  "  give  me  some 
punch." 

"  That  is  worse  yet,"  I  answered. 


OUT  OF   TOWN.  191 

"  I  did  n't  mean  it,"  said  Joyce  ;  "  I  did  n't,  upon  my 
word." 

"  All  right,"  I  said,  "  I  did  n't  suppose  you  did ;  but  here 
comes  my  wife.  Don't  let  her  drink  too  much  strong  tea, 
Joyce  ;  it  is  apt  to  make  her  nervous." 

"  Oh,  bother ! "  cried  Joyce  ;  "  how  can  I  help  it,  I  should 
like  to  know  ?  " 

"  Well,  I  don't  know  that  you  can,"  I  replied.  "  The 
fact  is  that  we  husbands  can't  help  a  great  many  things 
which  our  wives  do.  If  they  will,  they  will,  and  that's  an 
end  of  it." 

"  That 's  so,"  said  Joyce,  "  you  Ve  hit  it  there  ;  "  and  my 
wife  appearing  at  that  moment,  I  said  good-by ;  and,  wishing 
them  a  pleasant  walk  and  my  wife  a  quick  return,  I  let 
them  out  into  the  cheerless  dawning,  and,  coming  back 
myself  to  the  library,  stirred  up  the  buried  embers  on  the 
hearth,  and,  putting  some  fresh  wood  above  them,  soon 
had  a  glorious  fire  blazing  before  me. 

It  was  scarcely  worth  while,  I  thought,  to  go  to  bed  again ; 
therefore  I  resolved  to  examine  the  new  books  which  I  had 
brought  from  town  the  night  before.  So,  after  finishing 
my  toilet,  I  opened  the  package  before  me.  To  me  there 
are  few  pleasanter  things  in  this  life  than  to  open  a  bundle 
containing  new  books.  And  how  plentifully,  in  these 
holiday  times,  do  new  books  make  their  appearance ! 
They  fall  around  one  as  thickly  as  leaves  in  Valambrosa. 
"  And  what,"  I  ask  myself,  "  can  be  more  appropriate,  at 
this  season,  for  a  gift  to  a  beloved  friend,  than  a  book  ? 
Mothers,  wives,  sisters,  daughters ;  fathers,  husbands,  broth 
ers,  and  sons,  individually  and  collectively,  find  delight  in 
a  new  book.  A  book  helps  to  lighten  the  weariness  of 
convalescency,  the  dreariness  of  sorrow,  the  tediousness  of 
idleness;  it  makes  more  cheerful  the  honeymoon,  adds 
greater  lustre  to  happy  homes,  and  crowns  the  enjoyments 
of  the  holidays. 

"  Now,  there  is  my  savage  literary  friend,"  I  say  aloud, 


192  OUT  OF  TOWN. 

the  while  carefully  undoing  the  paper  which  enwraps  my 
books,  "  who,  if  I  should  ask,  which  do  you  prefer,  a  book 
store  or  a  library?  would  probably  answer  neither,  but 
that  he  preferred  a  bookstall,  filled  with  what  I  would  term 
second-hand  rubbish,  dusty  and  musty,  and  among  which 
one  might  rummage  half  a  day  without  finding  a  single 
book  worth  the  carrying  home  ;  but,  if  found,  it  would  seem 
to  him  most  valuable,  and  one,  he  would  declare,  that  could 
be  obtained  neither  for  love  or  money  at  a  regular  book 
store.  Probably  it  would  turn  out  to  be  a  mutilated  copy 
of  a  collection  of  Irish  plays,  written  by  some  old  buffer 
who  had  been  dead  a  hundred  years,  but  who,  in  his  day 
and  generation,  had  a  certain  reputation  as  a  playwright, 
surpassed  only  by  that  which  he  possessed  of  being  able 
to  brew  and  to  drink  a  better  and  stronger  hot  whiskey- 
punch  than  any  other  man  in  Dublin." 

Being  thus  reminded  of  a  punch,  I  get  the  little  copper 
kettle  in  which  my  wife  boils  water  for  her  tea,  and  place 
it  on  the  coals  in  the  chimney-corner :  then  I  hunt  sharply 
around  for  a  lemon  and  white  sugar,  and,  having  found 
them,  place  them  on  the  table  beside  the  bottle  of  Glen- 
livet. 

Then,  thinking  aloud  again,  I  say,  "  There  is  to  me  some 
thing  exceedingly  pleasant  in  possessing  a  fresh  book,  with 
its  leaves  still  uncut,  and  its  contents  still  unknown,  which 
is  eminently  gratifying  to  my  feelings.  It  gives  me  the 
impression  that  I  am,  in  some  sort  of  a  way,  a  literary 
Columbus,  about  to  discover  a  new  country ;  and  when  I 
sit  down,  and  take  my  paper-knife  in  my  hand,  I  feel  con 
fident  that  I  am  going  to  consummate  an  important  act." 

Thereupon  I  draw  forth  from  the  package  a  copy  of 
"  ^sop's  Fables."  There  was  a  time,  years  ago,  when  I 
was  a  youngster,  that  I  had  great  faith  in  Mr.  JEsop,  and 
believed  that  he  really  was  acquainted  with  animals  pos 
sessed  of  the  faculty  of  speech.  It  was  a  shock  to  my 
feelings,  I  remember,  when  I  discovered  that,  after  all,  the 


OUT  OF  TOWN.  193 

stories  were  nothing  more  than  what  they  purported  to  be, 

—  fables.     I  never  was  able,  afterwards,  to  read  them  with 
the  same  zest ;  and,  though  I  take  kindly  to  them  in  their 
new  dress,  yet  I  endeavor  to  make  myself  believe  them  lit 
erally,  and  always  skip  the  application.     I  have  not,  how 
ever,  and  I  hope  I  never  shall,  lose  my  interest  in,  and  en 
joyment  of,  the  next  book  I  draw  forth,  which  is  "  Robin 
son  Crusoe."     How  the  very  name  recalls  the  days  of  my 
boyhood  !     What  plans  I  formed,  after  reading  it,  for  get 
ting  shipwrecked  on  Rocky  Island !     And  I  did  one  day 
drift  off  alone  in  an  old  scow,  and  came  to  grief  before  I 
reached  my  desert  island,  through  being  overhauled  by  a 
party  of  shad  fishermen,  and  ignominiously  towed  back, 
notwithstanding  my  protests,  to  my  starting-place !     How 
I  longed  for  a  goat-skin  dress,  and  a  parrot,  and  a  man 
Friday!     My  faith  in  the  truthfulness  of  that  book  has 
never  been  shaken  ;  and   now,  when  I  find  it  so  nicely 
printed,  and  embellished  with  a  hundred  pictures,  I  am 
more  than  ever  convinced  of  its  truth ;  and  I  should  be 
sorely  tempted,  I  am  certain,  to  punish  very  severely  any 
one  of  my  boys  or  girls  who  did  n't  believe  in  it  implicitly 
from  beginning  to  end. 

"  And  here,"  I  say,  bringing  forth  the  last  volume,  "  is 
'  The  Children  in  the  Wood,'  told  in  charming  verse.  The 
story  carries  one  back,  in  imagination  at  least,  to  the  days 
of  good  Queen  Bess,  when  young  Sir  Arthur  and  little 
Lady  Jane  —  for  these  were  the  names  of  the  two  children 

—  lived  and  died,  and  were  buried  by  the  robins,  who 

'  Strewed,  with  pious  care,  the  leaves 

On  cheek,  and  brow,  and  breast, 
Till  they  had  raised  a  funeral  mound 
To  mark  their  place  of  rest.' 

"  Ah  me ! "  I  exclaimed,  taking  the  kettle  off  the  fire, 
and  pouring  a  small  quantity  of  hot  water  into  a  goblet 
which  contained  some  white  sugar,  that  had  been  bruising 
13 


194  OUT  OF  TOWN. 

itself  against  a  bit  of  lemon-peel  for  the  past  ten  minutes, 
and  to  which  I  added,  after  the  sugar  was  thoroughly  dis 
solved,  a  modicum  of  Scotch  whiskey,  which  I  thereupon 
stirred  with  a  spoon,  and  partook  of  unctuously  and  appre 
ciatively,  —  "  ah  me ! "  I  repeated,  "  I  almost  wish  I  were  a 
boy  again,  that  I  might  once  more  have  the  pleasure  of 
reading,  for  the  first  time,  '  Robinson  Crusoe/  and  all 
other  juvenile  books." 


OUT  OF  TOWN.  195 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

An  Investment.  —  Trumpets.  —  A  Deaf  Girl.  —  Horns.  —  A  German 
Fashion.  —  Tooting.  —  A  bewildered  Party.  —  Silver-plated  and  Tin 
Trumpets;  the  Family  supplied. — A  Jolly  Sight.  —  Foremen  and 
Captains.  —  Broken  English.  —  Gabriel.  —  Two  Horns.  —  Another  Kind 
of  a  Horn. 

HAVE  been  investing  considerable  money,  re 
cently,  in  speaking-trumpets.  My  wife  has  a  sil 
ver-plated  one,  and  the  rest  of  the  family  tin  ones. 
The  reason  of  this  is  that  the  nursery-maid,  a  young  Ger 
man  girl  of  pleasing  appearance,  and  who  only  partially 
understands  the  English  language,  is  almost  as  deaf  as  that 
popular  object  of  comparison,  —  a  post.  We  had  all  made 
ourselves  hoarse  with  shouting  at  her,  and  I  determined  to 
endure  it  no  longer ;  so  I  suggested  to  my  wife  the  pro 
priety  of  discharging  her  and  hiring  a  young  woman  whose 
ears  had  not  been  corked  up.  But  so  many  good  traits 
were  discovered  in  Bertha,  —  she  was  so  willing  to  do  any 
thing  you  required  of  her,  and  so  quick  to  accomplish  it, 
after  she  understood  what  it  was  you  desired ;  in  fact,  so 
quick  that  she  goes  off  sometimes  half-primed,  thinking 
that  she  clearly  knows  what  you  wish,  and  does  exactly 
that  which  you  do  not  wish  her  to  do,  —  that  my  wife  pre 
ferred  to  endure  the  existing  evil  rather  than  risk  finding 
something  worse  in  a  girl  of  whom  she  knew  nothing. 
Desiring,  however,  to  alleviate,  as  far  as  practicable,  the 
annoyance  which  the  retention  of  Bertha  made  necessary, 
I  purchased  and  brought  home,  much  to  the  astonishment 
of  my  wife  and  the  delight  of  the  little  ones,  a  dozen  trum 
pets,  assorted  sizes.  Of  course  my  family  cannot  make 


196  OUT  OF   TOWN. 

use  of  them  all ;  but,  in  case  of  visitors,  I  tnought,  for  sup 
plying  them  with,  they  would  be  handy  to  have  in  the 
house. 

"  What  in  the  world,  Mr.  Gray,"  my  wife  asked,  when 
the  expressman,  having  deposited  at  the  door  one  evening, 
just  as  we  were  finishing  our  dinner,  the  package  contain 
ing  them,  which  I  immediately  had  brought  into  the  din 
ing-room,  where  I  unpacked  and  exposed  them  to  view,  — 
"  what  in  the  world,"  she  reiterated,  "  are  you  going  to  do 
with  all  those  horns  ?  " 

"  "Well,"  I  replied,  "  as  New  Year's  Day  is  coming,  I 
thought,  since  we  had  a  German  girl  living  with  us,  it 
would  be  polite  in  us  to  adopt  the  German  fashion  of 
blowing  on  horns  as  the  old  year  goes  out  and  the  new  one 
comes  in.  This  is  done,  I  believe,  to  frighten  away  the 
ghost  of  the  dead  year,  and  to  encourage  the  spirit  of  the 
new  year  to  approach." 

"  I,  for  one,"  said  my  wife,  slightly  bridling  up,  "  don't 
desire  to  accept  that  fashion.  I  am  satisfied  to  let  the 
ghost  of  the  old  year  go  and  the  spirit  of  the  new  come 
without  such  foolery  on  my  part,  even  if  it  be  a  German 
fashion.  I  'd  look  well,  would  n't  I,  and  Miss  Floy,  and  the 
children,  too,  going  out  into  the  street,  in  the  middle  of  a 
cold  winter  night,  tooting  on  one  of  those  concerns  ?  " 

"  Well,  my  dear,"  I  said,  "  if  you  do  not  wish  to  do  it, 
you  know  you  need  not ;  but,  from  your  desiring  to  keep 
Bertha,  I  really  thought  that  something  of  this  kind,  which 
would  be  gratifying  to  her  sense  of  nationality,  as  it  were, 
would  meet  with  your  cordial  approval.  If  I  have  been 
mistaken,  why,  I  am  sorry." 

"  You  certainly  are,"  said  my  wife,  "  the  strangest  and 
most  foolish  man  I  ever  met.  Now,  what  shall  we  do  with 
those  horns  ?  " 

"  They  are  not  horns,  my  dear,"  I  said,  "  but  trumpets  ; 
though  never  mind  that.  An  idea  has  struck  me.  See." 
And,  seizing  one  of  them,  I  shouted  through  it,  "  Bertha  !  " 


OUT  OF  TOWN.  197 

Bertha,  who  was  up-stairs  in  the  nursery,  immediately 
made  her  appearance. 

"  Bertha,"  I  continued,  still  shouting  through  it,  "  go 
down  into  the  cellar  and  draw  me  a  pitcher  of  ale." 

Bertha  took  the  pitcher,  and  disappeared. 

"  You  see,"  I  continued,  addressing  the  slightly  bewil 
dered  party  who  sat  around  the  table,  and  who  were  con 
vulsed  with  laughter,  "  to  what  excellent  use  these  trumpets 
can  be  applied.  Bertha,  who  has  not  been  known  to  hear 
anything  you  might  say  to  her  until  it  had  been  repeated 
at  least  a  dozen  times,  and  each  repetition  of  which  it  was 
necessary  to  yell  louder  and  louder,  until  you  almost 
cracked  your  skull  and  nearly  raised  the  roof  off  of  the 
house,  now  hears  and  understands  at  the  first  bidding.  My 
dear,"  I  continued,  selecting  the  silver-plated  trumpet, 
"  allow  me  to  present  you  with  this  magnificent  affair ;  and 
you,  Miss  Floy,  another,  equally  effective,  but  not  so  high 
priced  ;  and  you,  my  little  ones,"  handing  each  of  them  one, 
"  small,  smaller,  smallest.  And  now  your  papa  will  take 
this ;  the  remaining  ones  we  will  reserve  for  invited 
guests." 

It  is  a  very  jolly  sight,  to  see  each  member  of  my  family 
going  about  the  house  with  a  trumpet  slung  at  her  side, 
for  all  the  world  like  so  many  foremen  of  fire-engine  com 
panies,  or  sea  captains  on  the  quarter-deck,  and  to  hear 
them  given  their  orders,  in  stentorian  voices,  at  the  break 
fast  and  dinner  table.  They  appear  to  have  an  idea,  too, 
that,  by  talking  to  Bertha  through  the  trumpets,  she  will 
the  more  readily  understand  the  English  of  what  they  are 
saying.  This  may  or  may  not  be  so ;  but,  at  all  events, 
she  does  seem  to  more  fully  understand  what  is  said  to 
her,  and  is,  moreover,  highly  delighted  with  the  success 
attendant  upon  the  use  of  the  trumpets.  Indeed,  she  is 
so  pleased  with  them  that  she  carries  two  herself,  and  noth 
ing  delights  her  more  than  to  shout  back  her  answers,  in 
broken  English,  with  a  vehemence  and  rapidity  quite  ap- 


198  OUT  OF  TOWN. 

palling,  at  my  wife,  who,  at  times,  I  am  sorry  to  say,  is 
quite  crazed  with  the  tumult,  and  wishes  the  trumpets  in 
Jericho,  or  some  other  equally  agreeable  place. 

Miss  Floy  very  wickedly  says  that  the  trumpetings  now 
going  on  in  Woodbine  Cottage  are  calculated  to  make 
even  Gabriel  jealous,  and  she  much  doubts  whether  he 
will  be  able  to  create  a  louder  noise  when  the  time  conies 
for  him  to  wake  the  sleepers.  Miss  Floy  further  says  that 
it  will  no  longer  be  necessary  for  me  to  go  round  the 
corner,  to  the  old  sea  captain's,  late  at  night,  as  I  have 
been  accustomed  to  do,  to  "  take  a  horn  "  with  him  before 
going  to  bed,  as  the  prevalence  of  horns  in  my  own  house 
will  be  all-sufficient ;  indeed,  she  thinks  that  I  might  ask 
him  to  come  to  Woodbine  Cottage  and  take  several  with 
me,  without  any  perceptible  loss  of  quantity  or  of  detri 
ment  to  the  discord. 

Since  those  horns  came  into  the  house,  the  baby  has  slept 
scarcely  a  wink,  except  at  night,  and  at  least  three  servants 
have  come  and  gone,  giving,  as  the  reason  for  their  depart 
ure,  that  their  nerves  could  not  stand  the  racket.  One 
good  thing,  at  least,  has  been  accomplished  by  the  intro 
duction  of  those  horns,  in  that  the  German  girl,  who  walks 
around  the  house  with  a  trumpet  at  each  ear,  is  now  able 
to  hear  the  baby  cry,  which,  previously,  she  was  not  able 
to  do. 


OUT  OF  TOWN.  199 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 

The  coming  of  Christmas.  —  A  Christmas-tree. — A  Party  of  Little  Folks. 

—  Several  New  Books. —  A  Christmas  Story. —  "  Santa  Claus's  Visit."  — 
A  Cold,  Still  Night.  —  Mary  and  her  Lover.—  The  Old  Man.— Nicholas. 

—  Santa  Claus.  —  His  Portrait.  —  Pictures.  —  Rejoicings.  —  The  Lovers' 
Arrival.  — Happiness  Complete. 

•  Y  dear,"  I  said  to  Mrs.  Gray,  as,  with  the  children 
nestled  around  us,  we  seated  ourselves  near  the 
centre-table,  in  the  library,  "  are  you  aware  that 
Christmas  is  almost  here,  and  we  are  not  provided  with  a 
Christmas-tree,  or  any  presents  to  hang  'on  it,  for  the  little 
folks?" 

Here  the  parties  interested  opened  wide  their  eyes  and 
mouths,  as  if  to  see  and  swallow  everything,  in  the  way  of 
toys  and  candies,  that  the  occasion  could  possibly  bring 
forth. 

"  Yes,"  she  replied  ;  "  but  I  have  been  waiting  for  Miss 
Floy,  who  has  promised  to  assist  me  in  getting  up  a  Christ 
mas-tree.  Captain  Jack's  little  ones  have  been  asked  to 
pass  the  day  with  ours,  and  great  preparations  are  being 
made  by  them,  in  view  of  this  circumstance." 

"  Why,  we  shall  have  quite  a  party  of  little  folks,"  I  said, 
"  and  it  will  be  my  duty  to  see  that  as  many  juvenile  books 
are  provided  as  will  enable  each  of  the  children  to  have 
one.  Let  me  think,  which  of  my  friends,  the  publishers, 
shall  I  call  upon,  on  this  occasion  ?  " 

"  Why,"  interposed  Mrs.  Gray,  "  there  are  the  '  Five 
Little  Pigs,'  and  '  The  Fox  and  the  Geese '  books,  with 
nice  illustrations,  just  published,  for  the  younger ;  and  '  The 
Adventures  of  a  Little  French  Boy,'  and  '  Robinson  Crusoe,' 
for  the  boys." 


200  OUT  OF  TOWN. 

"True,  my  love,"  I  replied;  "nor  can  any  be  better 
than  these." 

"  Except  some  fairy  books,"  exclaimed  Em.,  "  and  a  doll, 
and  a  skipping-rope." 

"  And  oranges,  and  a  rocking-horse,"  chimed  in  the  boy 
in  boots. 

"  And  me  wants  '  tandies,'  "  lisped  the  youngest. 

"  To  be  sure,"  I  answered ;  "  all  these  matters  are  im 
portant,  and  shall  be  attended  to  in  due  time.  It  is  a 
pleasant  occasion,  my  dear,  this,  which  so  delights  the  little 
ones,  aside  from  its  historical  interest  as  the  Christian's 
most  solemn  festival.  I  do  not  know  what  we  should  do 
without  Christmas,  and  its  attendant  saint,  good  old  Santa 
Claus. 

"And  this  reminds  me,  my  dear,"  I  continued,  "of  a 
story  which  I  have  'written,  which,  if  you  will  permit  me,  I 
will  read  to  the  club,  this  evening  —  even  the  little  ones 
may  take  pleasure  in  hearing  it ;  so,  if  they  will  be  very 
quiet,  they  may  remain  up  beyond  their  usual  bedtime, 
while  I  read  it." 

Mamma  consenting,  and  the  children  promising  to  be 
"  good,"  I  read  the  following,  entitled 

SANTA  CLAUS'S   VISIT. 

IT  was  as  still  and  cold  —  on  Christmas  Eve  —  as  it 
could  well  be ;  so  cold  that  the  very  moon-beams,  as  they 
came  struggling  against  the  window-pane,  seemed  to  con 
geal,  and  appeared  like  lines  of  silver  wire  drawn  out  into 
the  icy  air.  The  trees  were  covered  with  a  coating  of  ice, 
which  gleamed  and  glittered  in  the  moonlight,  as  if  their 
branches  were  studded  with  precious  stones ;  icicles,  like 
pointed  spears,  hung  from  the  eaves  of  the  cottages ;  and 
the  smoke  which  rose  from  the  hundred  chimneys  of  the 
village,  passed,  like  pious  incense,  upwards  into  the  still  air, 
bearing  in  its  quiet  folds  kind  thoughts  and  grateful  words 
from  the  loving  ones  clustered  around  their  hearth-stones. 


OUT  OF  TOWN.  201 

The  snow  lay  deep  upon  the  ground,  and  was  covered  with 
a  thick  crust,  which  bore  up  the  children  when  from  the 
beaten  track  they  turned  aside,  chasing  each  other  over  the 
frozen  surface,  as  they  came  home  from  school.  Lights 
gleamed  from  the  windows  of  every  cot  in  the  single  street 
of  the  village,  and  voices  of  young  and  old  mingled  with 
song  and  laughter.  At  one  end  of  the  village,  within  a 
cottage,  a  little  apart  from  the  others,  are  seated  an  old 
man  of  seventy  winters,  his  wife,  and  his  granddaughter, 
Mary.  The  room  is  one  of  those  antique  rooms  which 
answer  alike  for  the  parlor  and  kitchen ;  the  floor  is  of 
oak,  and  sanded  with  clean  white  sand,  which  was  sprin 
kled  by  Mary's  own  hands.  Pictures  adorn  the  walls, 
descriptive  of  "  The  Prodigal  Son,"  in  four  distinct  illus 
trations, —  his  going,  his  folly,  his  poverty,  and  his  return. 
On  the  dresser  are  ranged  pewter  platters  and  numerous 
plates  ;  while  mugs  of  goodly  dimensions  hang  from  pegs, 
and  reflect  the  flame  of  the  fire.  Curtains  of  white,  as 
pure  as  the  snow  in  the  meadow,  are  drawn  at  the  windows 
and  fall  in  graceful  proportions ;  on  one  side  of  the  wain 
scot,  a  little  away  from  the  dresser,  hangs  a  cage  of  woven 
willow  and  wire-work ;  within  it  a  robin  —  that  bird  of  the 
homestead  —  gladdens  the  house  with  its  music.  On  an 
ancient  carved  table,  drawn  out  in  the  middle  of  the  room, 
lies  the  Bible,  unclapsed,  and  wide  open,  and  the  eyes  of 
the  matron  are  fixed  on  the  passage  before  her,  —  "  We  have 
seen  his  star  in  the  east,  and  are  come  to  worship  him." 

The  old  man  is  seated  within  his  arm-chair,  with  his  feet 
to  the  fire,  where  the  yule-log  is  burning,  and  he  watches 
the  flame  and  the  smoke  as  they  dance  and  play  with  each 
other,  while  his  thoughts  are  wandering  back  to  the  time 
of  his  youth,  when  he  danced  and  joyed  with  the  maidens. 
Oft  doth  his  eye  seek  the  face  of  his  grandchild  beside 
him,  with  a  look  of  the  kindest  inquiry.  Sad,  sad  is  the 
heart  of  the  maiden,  though  her  lips  wear  the  smile  of 
happiness  ;  yet  oft  doth  she  start  and  sigh  as  footsteps 


202  OUT  OF   TOWN. 

glide  on  past  the  doorway.  Thus  sit  they  in  silence,  each 
wishing,  yet  fearing,  to  utter  the  thoughts  that  have  birth 
in  their  bosoms,  till  the  clock  in  the  corner,  grown  bold  by 
the  stillness,  chimes  loudly  the  hour  of  seven.  Then  the 
cat  by  the  fireside,  dozing,  awakened  by  the  sound,  answers, 
by  purring,  the  chirp  of  the  cricket,  and  the  dog,  with  a 
wag  of  his  tail,  looks  up  to  the  face  of  his  master.  Then 
rises  the  old  man,  and  paces  the  floor  of  the  kitchen  ;  his 
face  has  a  look  of  trouble,  and  the  eyes  of  the  maiden 
are  downcast ;  while  the  matron  wipes  the  mist  from  her 
glasses  and  lays  them  within  the  book,  on  the  page  that 
tells  of  the  birth  of  our  Saviour.  Still  paces  the  old 
man  backward  and  forward,  like  a  pendulum  weary  with 
going  ;  but,  anon,  he  stops  at  the  window,  and  drawing  the 
curtain  aside,  looks  out  on  the  village  ;  the  street  is  deserted, 
and  he  hears  not  the  sound  of  a  footfall.  Then  he  turns 
to  his  granddaughter  Mary,  and  says,  — 

"  Why  is  it,  my  child,  that  Nicholas  comes  not  hither 
to  woo  thee  on  this  holiest  of  eves  ?  Surely  thou  canst 
not  have  driven  him  from  thee  in  anger  ?  " 

Then  sighed  the  maiden,  and  answered  as  follows  :  — 

"  Truly,  my  father,  I  know  not  the  reason  that  keeps 
him  away  ;  't  is  now  three  days  since  I  have  seen  him, 
though  he  hath  not  been  out  of  the  village.  There  are 
maidens  more  beautiful,  father,  than  I,  and  richer  by  far. 
Man's  heart  is  a  changeable  thing,  and  perhaps  my  love  is 
forgotten." 

Then  paced  the  old  man  backward  and  forward,  while 
dark  grew  his  brow,  and  the  feeling  of  wrath  was  upon 
him.  At  last  he  lifted  his  hand  and  said  :  — 

"  Never  shall  Nicholas  " 

Suddenly  paused  the  old  man,  and  his  hand  fell  down 
on  the  table  —  while  the  matron  looked  over  her  glasses, 
and  opened  her  mouth  as  astonished  —  while  the  maiden 
rose  from  her  chair  and  was  fixed  like  a  statue  —  the  dog 
cowered  in  the  corner,  and  the  cat  crept  under  the  dresser, 


OUT  OF  TOWN.  203 

while  the  clock  ceased  its  ticking,  and  held  up  its  hands 
in  amazement.  But  the  cricket  kept  up  its  chirping  and 
sang  louder  and  louder ;  brighter  grew  the  fire,  and  the 
burning  brands  crackled  and  snapped,  as  if  giving  a  wel 
come,  while  the  flame  and  the  smoke  rose  higher  and 
higher,  and  wreathed  together  fantastically. 

The  door  stood  open,  and  there,  on  the  piled-up  snow, 
was  a  sleigh,  carved  out  from  an  oak  of  the  forest.  Cours 
ers  were  there,  with  stately  horns,  that  resembled  the  rein-  • 
deers  of  Lapland:  they  pawed  the  snow  with  their  hoofs, 
and  scattered  it  high  in  the  heavens ;  icicles  hung  from 
their  antlers,  and  their  backs  were  covered  with  snow- 
flakes  ;  they  were  fastened  to  the  sleigh  with  links  cut 
from  the  icebergs,  and  their  saddles  were  carved  out  of 
ebony,  inlaid  with  hailstones  ;  their  reins  were  of  crystal 
lized  moon-beams.  The  sleigh  was  filled  with  presents  of 
all  kinds,  —  toys  for  the  children,  and  candies  and  books 
in  profusion.  Then  from  out  the  sleigh  there  arose  a  be 
ing  of  jovial  appearance.  He  winked  to  his  steeds,  and 
then  entered  the  cottage.  His  face  was  the  face  of  the 
moon  seen  through  the  mists  of  October  ;  his  eyes  were  like 
stars  of  the  night,  and  his  mouth  was  made  for  feasting 
and  drinking;  his  hair  was  white  as  the  snow,  and  his 
beard  like  the  hoar-frost ;  his  looks  were  quizzical,  and  jol 
lity  shone  in  each  feature  ;  he  was  short  in  stature,  though 
broad  in  his  girth,  while  his  walk  was  a  roll  and  a  caper  ; 
his  coat  was  the  skin  of  the  polar  bear,  and  hung  round 
his  body,  —  alas,  ere  the  morning,  it  would  be  black  with 
the  soot  of  the  chimneys ;  leathern  breeches  adorned  his 
limbs,  and  fitted  his  person  exactly  ;  moccasons  covered  his 
feet,  and  he  bore  in  one  hand  a  three-cornered  hat,  in  the 
other  a  flagon  of  home-brewed.  Closing  the  door,  he  sat 
down  in  a  chair,  and  placed  the  flagon  beside  him ;  not  a 
word  did  he  speak,  but,  taking  a  mug  from  the  table,  he 
filled  it,  and  handed  the  same  to  the  old  man.  Trembling, 
he  drank ;  but  when  he  had  finished  ha.  smacked  his  lips, 


204  OUT  OF   TOWN. 

and  vowed  it  was  as  good  as  the  best, — even  that  which  his 
old  wife  had  brewed  him. 

Loudly  old  Santa  Clans  laughed  (for  it  was  he),  till  he 
shook  "  like  a  bowl  full  of  jelly."  Then  he  sung  an  old 
song,  till  the  rafters  resounded,  and  the  old  man  joined  in 
with  the  chorus :  — 

"  Both  back  and  side  go  bare,  go  bare, 

Both  foot  and  hand  go  cold ; 
But  on  Christmas  give  us  good  ale  enough, 
Whether  it  be  new  or  old." 

At  last  Santa  Glaus  rose,  but  no  word  did  he  speak  as 
he  pointed  to  the  flagon  ;  and  there,  as  if  in  a  mirror,  they 
saw  the  inside  of  a  cottage,  and  heard  the  music  of  voices, 
—  young  men  and  maidens  were  gathered  together,  and 
linked  hand  in  hand  in  the  dance.  But  Mary  saw  not  in 
the  group  the  one  she  so  longed  to  behold,  and  her  heart 
grew  light  as  she  gazed.  Slowly  the  picture  faded  from 
sight,  and  now  they  looked  on  another,  and  heard  the  faint 
murmur  of  bells. 

Rapidly  over  the  frozen  ground  came  a  party  in  sleighs ; 
and  as  each  passed  along,  the  light  of  the  moon  shone 
upon  them.  Mary's  heart  beat  faster  and  faster ;  many 
among  them  she  knew,  but  nowhere  saw  she  her  lover. 
Slowly  the  picture  faded  from  sight,  and  now  they  looked 
on  another,  and  heard  men's  voices  in  anger. 

In  the  village  inn,  in  the  bar-room,  were  grouped  to 
gether  a  party  of  men,  drinking  and  gaming.  Mary  hid 
her  face  in  her  hands,  for  her  woman's  heart  dared  not  to 
look  on  the  picture.  But  she  thought  of  her  lover,  of  his 
goodness  and  kindness  unto  her,  and  she  knew  he  could 
not  be  among  them ;  and  she  gazed  with  calm  heart  and 
clear  eye  on  the  semblance  before  her ;  but  no  shade  of 
her  lover  was  there.  Slowly  the  picture  faded  from  sight, 
and  now  they  looked  on  another,  and  heard  the  faint  chirp 
of  a  cricket. 

'T  was  a  chamber,  alone  and  deserted ;  no  light  and  no 


OUT  OF   TOWN.  205 

fire  gave  warmth  to  the  picture,  and  Mary  knew  't  was  the 
room  of  her  lover.  Unpressed  was  the  bed,  and  the  cur 
tains  were  drawn  at  the  window,  and  shut  was  the  chest 
and  the  clothes-press.  But  he  was  not  in  the  chamber. 
Slowly  the  picture  faded  from  sight,  and  now  they  looked 
on  another,  and  heard  the  low  stroke  of  a  hammer. 

There,  in  his  workshop,  she  saw  her  lover,  and  his  eye 
was  lit  up  with  a  smile.  Beside  a  carved  wardrobe  he 
stood,  and  was  inlaying  her  name  in  the  panel.  Hard  had 
he  worked,  day  after  day  and  night  after  night,  to  finish  it 
for  her  by  Christmas,  and  now  he  put  the  finishing  touch, 
and  gazed  on  his  work  as  gazes  an  artist.  Beat  Mary's 
heart  lovingly  faster,  tears  overflowed  from  her  eyelids,  as 
water  bubbles  up  from  the  fountain,  and  she  sank  on  her 
knees  by  the  hearth-stone,  while  her  hands  were  clasped 
o'er  her  bosom.  The  old  man  bowed  his  head  on  his 
breast,  while  his  silver  locks  shrouded  his  eyebrows,  and 
his  wife  opened  the  Bible,  her  thin  lips  parted  in  prayer. 
Oh  !  filled  were  their  hearts  with  joy  at  the  instant.  But 
ere  they  looked  round,  Santa  Glaus  had  departed,  and  the 
soot  dropped  down  from  the  chimney. 

Soon  a  step  on  the  snow  outside  was  heard,  and  Nicholas 
tapped  at  the  doorway ;  he  entered,  and  Mary  was  clasped 
in  his  arms,  and  a  kiss  was  impressed  on  her  forehead.  A 
grasp  of  the  hand  did  the  old  man  give,  and  the  matron 
murmured  her  blessing.  So  happiness  dwelt  in  the  house 
hold  this  night,  and  the  Christmas  that  followed  thereafter. 

When  I  had  finished,  the  children  clapped  their  hands, 
and  said  it  was  a  very  nice  story  ;  and  then,  as  they  showed 
evident  signs  of  sleepiness,  Miss  Floy  very  kindly  con 
sented  to  see  them  to  bed. 


206  OUT  OF  TOWN. 


CHAPTER  XXXIH. 

Buckwheat  Cakes.  —  Sausages.  —  Confidence.  —  How  to  make  Sausages ; 
how  to  cook  them.  —  Opening  a  Cook-house. — Miss  Floy's  Manage 
ment  of  Children;  her  Play;  its  Progress. 

1  HE  season  of  buckwheat  cakes  has  arrived.  "With 
buckwheat  cakes,  country-made  sausages,  a  deli 
cate  roll  or  two,  and  a  cup  of  Mocha  coffee,  with 
cream,  one  can  make  a  very  comfortable  breakfast.  But 
the  cakes  must  be  light,  nicely  browned,  and  hot  from  the 
griddle  ;  then  eaten  with  plenty  of  fresh,  golden-hued  but 
ter,  —  and,  for  those  who  are  not  particular  about  the 
flavor  of  their  coffee,  a  spoonful  or  two  of  refined  syrup 
may  be  added ;  and,  for  my  part,  I  am  sorely  tempted,  I 
confess,  to  use  maple-syrup,  —  and  you  have  a  dish  good 
enough  for  any  one.  The  sausages,  too,  must  be  well 
cooked  ;  if  they  incline  to  be  a  little  crispy,  reminding  one 
just  a  trifle  of  the  cracklings  of  roasted  pig,  it  is  not 
amiss.  You  should  be  cautious  though,  as  to  where  you 
obtain  your  sausages ;  if  you  have  ever  so  slight  an  ac 
quaintance  with  the  woman  who  makes  them,  it  is  well, 
provided  you  have  confidence  in  her.  Confidence  in  your 
sausage-maker  is  an  excellent  thing.  One  of  the  best  ways 
for  possessing  this  confidence  is  to  have  your  sausages  pre 
pared  in  your  own  house,  with  materials  furnished  by  your 
self.  Pork,  two  thirds  lean  and  one  third  fat,  chopped 
finely,  is,  of  course,  the  foundation  for  all  sausages  ;  but 
a  boiled  beef's  tongue  may,  with  a  good  result,  be  added. 
Salt,  pepper,  summer-savory,  and  sage  should  be  the  chief 
seasoning,  though  curry  and  spices  may  be  effectively 


OUT  OF  TOWN.  207 

joined  thereto.  The  mixing  of  these  various  ingredients 
—  so  that  no  one  savor  predominates  —  should  be  as  care 
fully  wrought  as  in  making  a  salad.  It  is  not  every  one 
who  can  properly  accomplish  this,  any  more  than  can  every 
one  create  a  salad.  It  requires  judgment  in  preparing  the 
combinations,  skill  in  putting  them  together,  and  an  appre 
ciative  taste.  Then  it  should  be  made  into  small  cakes, 
and  fried  slowly  and  kindly  in  its  own  fat.  For  a  long 
time  it  seemed  to  me  as  if  this  making  them  fry  themselves, 
as  it  were,  was  a  little  ungenerous  ;  so  one  day  I  told  the 
cook  to  fry  them  in  olive  oil.  She  did  so,  and,  though  I 
pronounced  them  to  be  very  fine,  my  mother,  in  whose 
house  the  experiment  was  made,  and  all  of  my  juvenile 
brothers  and  sisters,  failed  to  take  kindly  to  them,  and 
when  we  next  had  them  for  breakfast  they  were  cooked  in 
the  usual  way. 

Something  very  similar  to  the  above  I  spoke  to  Mrs. 
Gray  the  other  morning  at  breakfast,  whereupon  she  asked 
me  if  I  had  been  to  the  French  cooking  academy. 

I  answered  I  had  not,  but  that  I  had  serious  intentions 
of  visiting  it ;  for  I  thought  I  could  put  the  professor  up  to 
one  or  two  ideas  in  the  matter  of  preparing  certain  new 
dishes,  which  would  be  of  benefit  to  him. 

"  What,  if  you  will  allow  me  to  ask,"  said  my  wife,  "  are 
the  dishes  to  which  you  refer  ?  " 

"  Well,"  I  replied,  "  I  dare  say  I  can  instruct  that  chef- 
de-cuisine  how  to  concoct  a  green-corn  pudding  among 
other  dishes." 

"  Probably  you  can,"  my  wife  replied  ;  "  but  I  would  not 
advise  you  to  do  so." 

"  Why  not  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  Because,"  answered  Miss  Floy,  "  you  cannot  tell  how 
soon  you  may  desire  to  open  a  cook-house  for  the  sale  of 
corn-puddings  in  New  York.  If  Uncle  Samuel  should 
turn  the  cold  shoulder  upon  you,  and  literature  should  fail, 
why,  you  may  have  to  turn  your  talents  to  —  not  take  them 


208  OUT  OF   TOWN. 

out  of,  observe  —  the  white  napkin,  and  knife,  fork,  and 
spoon  business." 

My  wife  nodded  approvingly,  and  the  little  ones,  without 
knowing  why  they  did  so,  laughed  merrily. 

"  Children,"  said  Miss  Floy,  who,  since  she  has  under 
taken  to  instruct  them  in  the  multiplication-table,  seeks 
also  to  improve  their  manners  at  the  breakfast-table,  and 
generally  has  a  rod  in  pickle  for  them  in  the  form  of  an 
exhibit  to  me  of  their  day's  shortcomings,  which  she  pro 
duces  at  the  dinner-table,  —  "  children,"  she  repeated,  "  do 
you  know  that  it  is  extremely  rude  to  laugh  aloud  during 
your  meals  ?  The  table  is  the  place  where  you  should  eat, 
and  not  chatter  or  laugh.  William  Howard,"  addressing 
my  eldest  boy,  "  will  you  do  me  the  favor  not  to  put  such 
great  pieces  of  food  into  your  mouth  ?  And  you,  Mary 
Allen,  stop  sipping  your  coffee  with  a  spoon,  —  it  is  quite 
improper.". 

"  It  is  n't  coffee,"  answered  the  pert  young  miss ;  "  it 's 
only  milk  and  water.  I  wish  it  was  coffee,  though." 

"  There,  say  no  more,"  said  Miss  Floy.  "  It  is  highly 
improper  for  you  to  reply  to  me  in  that  manner.  Children 
should  be  seen,  and  not  heard." 

"  Perhaps,  then,  you  '11  see  me  recite  my  lessons,  and 
not  hear  them,"  said  Miss  Em. 

"  Miss  Emma  Louisa,"  —  Miss  Floy,  I  observe,  likes  to 
address  the  children  by  their  full  Christian  names,  —  "I 
shall  be  compelled  to  ask  you  to  leave  the  table  if  you 
speak  in  that  way  again.  You  will  oblige  me  by  holding 
your  peace." 

"  Piece  of  what  ?  "  asked  Em. 

"  Piece  of  tongue,"  said  Miss  Floy,  getting  provoked. 

"  Emma,"  said  her  mother,  reprovingly,  "  don't  be  rude." 

Miss  Emma  bowed  her  head,  and  was  silent. 

Miss  Floy  looked  numerous  daggers  at  the  three  chil 
dren,  and  then  turned  to  me  and  —  winked. 

It  is  my  private  opinion  that  Miss  Floy  is  not  the  proper 


OUT  OF  TOWN.  209 

person  to  manage  these  children.  She  is  too  much  of  a 
child  herself,  —  a  somewhat  wilful,  giddy  creature  ;  and, 
though  she  strives  to  govern  them  properly,  she  is  prone 
to  be  too  exacting  with  them  at  one  moment,  and  too 
lenient  the  next.  The  result  is  such  episodes  as  the  above. 
Miss  Floy  continues  to  work  on  her  play,  and  has  com 
pleted  the  second  act ;  but,  owing  to  the  disturbance  which 
resulted  from  her  reading  the  first  to  me,  she  has  forborne 
to  favor  me  with  the  hearing  of  the  second.  "When  the 
five  acts  are  completed,  I  shall  doubtless  be  treated  to  the 
play  entire  ;  but,  before  that  time  arrives,  I  am  afraid  that 
the  season  of  buckwheat  cakes  will  have  ended. 


14 


210  OUT  OF   TOWN. 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

The  Twentieth  of  December.  —  The  Indian  Dinner.  —  Prominent  Dishes. 
Another  Christmas  Story.  —My  Children  in  Utopia. — Mary  and  Fanny. 
The  Old  Saint.  —  A  Christmas  Hymn.  —  A  long  Time  ago.  —  An  Old- 
fashioned  Chamber.  —  Poor  Old  Lady.  —  My  Grandmother.  —  Prayers. 
Arrival  of  Santa  Glaus.  —  A  Jolly-looking  Gentleman.  —  Merry  Christ 
inas. 

•ND  you  really  believe,  Mr.  Gray,"  said  my  wife, 
continuing  a  conversation  which  our  rising  from 
the  dinner-table  had  interrupted,  "  that  to-day  is 
the  two  hundredth  anniversary  of  the  Indian  wedding  ?  " 

"  Most  certainly  I  do,"  I  replied.  "  The  date  of  the 
marriage  is  distinctly  stated  in  the  old  Bible,  and  I  know 
of  no  reason  to  doubt  its  correctness.  I  wish  I  knew 
whether  any  one  would  celebrate  the  third  centennial  an 
niversary  of  this  couple,  and  if  so,  whether  the  dinner  will 
be  equal  to  the  one  we  have  just  eaten.  Your  idea  of  add 
ing  hominy  and  succotash  to  the  bill  of  fare,  Mrs.  Gray, 
because  of  the  probability  of  these  having  formed  promi 
nent  dishes  at  their  wedding-feast,  was  worthy  of  you,  and, 
in  the  name  of  the  Indian  woman,  I  thank  you." 

"  Nonsense,  Mr.  Gray  ;  no  thanks  are  necessary.  If  my 
efforts  in  getting  up  this  dinner  have  been  successful,  and 
if  it  has  met  with  your  approval,  I  desire  nothing  further." 

"  You  are  too  kind,  my  dear,"  I  answered  ;  "  and  if  you 
will  tell  me  what  you  would  like  in  the  way  of  furs  for 
your  Christmas  present,  I  will  promise  to  purchase  them 
for  you.  Speaking  of  furs  and  Christmas,  reminds  me  of  a 
story  I  wrote  when  I  was  a  bachelor,  and  my  family  existeu 
only  in  Utopia,  which,  if  you  would  like  to  hear  it,  Mrs. 
Gray,  I  will  read  aloud  to  you  and  the  little  ones." 


OUT  OF  TOWN.  211 

Mrs.  Gray  acquiescing,  and  the  children,  who,  at  the 
word  story,  had  left  their  play  of  "  hunt  the  slipper,"  and 
had  gathered  around  papa's  knees,  showing  their  willing 
ness  to  listen,  I  drew  from  my  desk  a  small  roll  of  manu 
script,  somewhat  faded  with  years,  which  I  unrolled,  and, 
taking  my  usual  place  on  the  rug  before  the  grate,  read 
the  following 

CHRISTMAS    STORIES. 

IT  was  Christmas  Eve,  and  I  was  seated  in  my  easy-chair, 
drawn  up  before  the  blazing  wood-fire  in  my  quiet  study, 
lost  in  a  golden  reverie.  Beautiful  pictures  of  long  ago, 
kept  green  in  memory  through  many  twilight  musings, 
were  passing  before  me.  The  present,  too,  with  its  cheer 
ful  realities,  and  the  far-off  future,  with  its  hopeful  plans, 
came  to  fill  my  heart  with  happiness.  How  long  my  rev 
erie  lasted  I  scarcely  know,  but  I  was  suddenly  aroused 
from  it  by  seeing  the  old  oak-door  —  that  door  which  had 
been  closed  for  many  a  year,  that  passed  into  the  chamber 
where  my  mother  died  —  slowly  open,  and  timidly  and 
noiselessly  come  forth  my  two  little  ones,  Mary  and  Fanny. 
By  what  means  they  had  obtained  ingress  into  that  long- 
deserted  room,  the  key  of  which  I  keep  in  the  private 
drawer  of  my  secretary,  I  never  thought  to  ask.  I  seated 
them,  one  on  either  knee,  while  they  twined. their  little 
arms  caressingly  about  my  neck,  and,  kissing  me  with 
their  red  lips,  said  they  had  come  for  papa  to  tell  them 
some  Christmas  stories.  I  felt  that  God  had  been  very 
kind  in  bestowing  upon  me  two  such  precious  gifts. 

Mary,  my  elder  child,  has  the  dark  hair  and  the  spark 
ling  black  eyes  of  her  mother,  and  the  very  look  which  in 
my  early  manhood  had  such  power  to  draw  me  to  that 
mother's  side.  Fanny,  my  baby-girl,  has  light  hair  and 
mild,  blue  eyes,  and  resembles  —  for  so  I  think  when  in  a 
musing  mood  —  a  fair  dream  of  my  boyhood,  which  faded 
into  the  shadow-land  long  before  I  knew  how  to  distinguish 


212  OUT   OF   TOWN. 

between  love  and  sisterly  affection.  Mary  is  all  vivacity 
and  life  ;  Fanny  is  reserved  and  quiet.  Mary  laughs  aloud ; 
Fanny  only  smiles.  Mary  moves  about  our  home  like  a 
singing-bird  ;  Fanny,  like  a  gleam  of  sunshine. 

"  And  what,"  asked  I,  "  shall  papa  tell  to  his  little 
daughters  ?  " 

"  Oh,"  said  Mary,  quickly,  "  first  of  all  tell  us  those  funny 
verses  about  Santa  Glaus  coming  down  the  chimney, 
dressed  in  furs,  carrying  a  big  pack  on  his  back,  and  with 
a  pipe  in  his  teeth,  to  fill  our  stockings." 

"  And  then,"  said  Fanny,  "  please  repeat,  papa,  that 
pretty  hymn  of  the  shepherds  sitting  on  the  ground,  watch 
ing  their  flocks  by  night,  when  the  angel  appeared  and 
told  them  of  Christ's  coming." 

And  so,  while  I  repeated  Clement  C.  Moore's  well-known 
Christmas  verses,  they  listened  quietly,  and  when  I  ended 
Mary  exclaimed,  clapping  her  hands  with  childish  glee :  — 

"  Oh,  how  I  should  like  to  see  Santa  Claus  and  the  rein 
deers  !  And  don't  you  think,  papa,  that  if  I  should  sit  xip 
to-night  for  Saint  Nick,  and  ask  him  to  give  me  a  large 
wax  doll,  with  eyes  that  open  and  shut,  just  like  the  one 
Cousin  Nina  has,  he  would  do  it  ?  " 

"  And  me  a  book,  full  of  pictures  and  pretty  stories  ?  " 
chimed  in  Fanny. 

I  had  not  the  heart  to  tell  them  that  Santa  Claus  was 
but  an  imaginary  being,  for  I  consider  that  these  mysteries 
of  our  childhood  —  this  belief  in  fairies  and  good  spirits  — 
are  of  too  poetical  and  beautiful  a  nature  to  be  rudely  dis 
enchanted  of  at  an  early  age.  The  ideals  of  our  child 
hood  disappear  fast  enough  before  the  actualities  of  life. 
So  I  promised  my  little  ones  that  I  would  speak  to  the  old 
saint  in  their  behalf,  while  they,  nestled  snugly  in  bed, 
should  be  dreaming  of  dolls  and  books,  and  I  doubted  not 
but  their  wishes  would  be  gratified.  Here  Mary  kissed  my 
cheek,  and  called  me  her  good  papa ;  while  Fanny  laid  her 
head  upon  my  shoulder  and  looked  up  into  my  face,  her 
mild  eyes  beaming  with  gratitude. 


OUT  OF   TOWN.  213 

They  were  both  very  quiet  and  attentive  while  I  repeated 
the  Christmas  hymn  ;  and  when  I  had  finished  it,  they 
asked  me  for  another,  and  then  another,  till  I  quite  ex 
hausted  my  stock  of  hymns  and  carols,  and  had- to  bring 
my  inventive  powers  to  the  task  in  conjuring  suitable 
stories  for  the  Christmas  Eve.  I  remember  I  told  them 
tales  wherein  the  words  plum-pudding  and  mince-pies, 
roast  turkey  and  flagons  of  ale,  the  yule-log  and  wassail- 
bowl  had  prominent  place.  But  I  found  that  they  both 
loved  best  to  hear  me  tell  of  things  that  happened  to  my 
self,  many  long  years  before,  when  I  was  a  little  boy,  and 
hung  up  my  stocking  o'  Christinas  Eves  ;  and,  among  other 
stories,  I  told  them  how,  when  I  was  a  very  small  lad,  not 
bigger  than  Fanny,  I  had  gone  with  their  great-grand 
mother  Gray  to  the  house  of  an  old  friend  of  hers,  who 
lived  in  the  country,  to  spend  the  holidays.  It  was  Christ 
mas  Eve  when  we  arrived  ;  and  as  we  had  ridden  a  long 
distance  in  an  open  sleigh,  I  was  very  tired  and  sleepy, 
and  so,  soon  after  supper,  I  asked  to  be  put  to  bed.  Here 
Mary  interrupted  me  to  say  that  I  must  have  been  a  very, 
very  little  boy  indeed,  to  want  to  go  to  bed  so  early  on 
Christmas  Eve,  and  that,  for  her  part,  she  should  n't  have 
been  sleepy  in  the  least,  but  would  have  liked  to  sit  up  all 
night.  This  I  knew  was  intended  as  a  hint  for  me  to  allow 
both  Fanny  and  herself  to  stay  up  beyond  their  usual  bed 
time  ;  so  I  let  the  hour  go  by  without  dismissing  them,  and 
continued  my  story. 

The  chamber  which  I  was  to  occupy  with  my  grand 
mother  was  a  very  large  one,  filled  with  old-fashioned  fur 
niture  ;  and  I  remember  she  told  me  that  the  greater  part 
of  it  came  over  in  the  May-Flower,  along  with  the  Pilgrim 
Fathers ;  and  while  she  undressed  me  she  told  me  a  long 
story  about  Captain  Miles  Standish,  and  Governor  Carver, 
and  the  Indians,  and  Plymouth  Rock,  the  greater  portion 
of  which  I  can  still  recall  to  mind.  Here  Mary  wanted 
me  to  tell  her  what  it  was,  but  Fanny  said  :  — 


214  OUT  OF   TOWN. 

"  No ;  wait  till  papa  has  finished  telling  us  about  him 
self." 

So  I  continued  as  follows  :  — 

"  There  seemed  to  my  sleepy  little  eyes  to  be  quite  an 
army  of  chairs  ranged  about  the  room,  and,  with  their  high, 
straight  backs,  and  long,  slender  legs,  they  looked  so  strange 
it  was  difficult  for  me  to  keep  from  watching  them.  I  half 
expected  to  see  them  step  out  into  the  middle  of  the  floor 
and  make  formal  bows  to  each  other.  There  was  a  large 
black-walnut  bookcase  on  one  side  of  the  room,  filled  with 
great  dusty  volumes,  that  looked  as  if  they  could  never  have 
been  read  ;  and  I  recollect  walking  boldly  up  to  it  in  my 
nightgown,  and  finding  that  the  books  on  the  lowest  shelf 
were  just  as  tall  as  I,  and  wondering  whether  I  would  ever 
be  able  to  read  such  huge  volumes." 

Here  Fanny  clapped  her  hands,  and  wanted  to  know  if, 
when  I  came  to  be  a  man,  I  had  ever  seen  these  great 
books  again  ;  and  whether  or  not  they  had  many  pictures 
in  them.  So  I  told  her  that  some  of  those  same  books 
were  now  in  my  library,  and  that  they  were  the  very  ones 
she  and  Mary  so  often,  on  rainy  Sundays,  were  fond  of 
looking  at,  and  having  me  explain  to  them  the  pictures. 
This  piece  of  news  seemed  to  astonish  them  very  much,  so 
they  both  got  down  and  went  to  the  bookcase  to  look  at 
those  wonderful  books  which,  so  many  years  before,  I  had 
wondered  at  when  a  little  boy.  They  were  very  anxious 
to  know  how  it  came  to  pass  that  I  now  owned  them,  and 
I  told  them  that  one  day  the  good  old  lady,  their  great- 
grandmother's  friend,  who  first  possessed  them,  died,  when 
all  her  furniture  and  books  were  sold,  and  I  had  bought 
these  with  many  others.  Here  Fanny  said,  "  Poor  old 
lady  ! "  and  crossed  her  little  arms  meekly  over  her  breast, 
looking  up  into  my  face  most  piteously,  while  her  eyes 
filled  with  tears.  But  Mary  asked,  "  Where  was  her  hus 
band  ?  why  did  n't  he  keep  her  books  ?  "  So  I  had  to  tell 
her  that  he  had  been  a  soldier,  but  was  killed  at  the  battle 
of  Bunker  Hill,  soon  after  their  marriage. 


OUT   OF    TOWN.  215 

At  length  I  continued  :  — 

"  Among  other  things  in  the  chamber  that  particularly 
attracted  my  attention  were  several  portraits  in  gilt  frames 
upon  the  walls,  so  old  and  dusty  that  I  thought  to  myself, 
'  They,  too,  must  have  come  over  in  the  May  -  Flower.' 
There  were  two  oval-framed  mirrors  in  the  room,  and  a 
great  bunch  of  peacocks'  feathers  in  one  corner.  But  the 
bedstead  itself  was  the  crowning  wonder ;  so  grand  and 
gloomy  did  it  look,  that  I  quite  feared  to  sleep  in  it. 
Heavy  blue  silk  curtains  surrounded  it  on  every  side,  up 
held  by  four  tall  posts  at  the  corners.  When  my  grand 
mother,  however,  parted  the  curtains  in  the  middle,  and 
looped  them  up  at  the  sides  with  the  great  silk  tassel, 
thereby  revealing  the  white  counterpane  and  lace-edged 
pillow-cases,  I  began  to  think  that  there  might  be  a  worse 
place  for  a  little  boy  to  sleep  in  than  that  would  prove  to 
be.  So  raised  was  the  bed  from  the  floor  that  I  had  to  be 
lifted  into  it,  as  it  quite  excelled  my  powers  of  climbing, 
even  by  the  aid  of  a  chair.  When  I  sank  down  amidst 
the  feathers,  I  could  but  just  see  the  top  of  my  grand 
mother's  turban,  as  she  stood  at  the  bedside  smoothing  the 
coverlet  about  me. 

"  After  I  had  repeated  my  prayers,  and  my  grandmother 
had  gone  down-stairs,  and  I  was  left  alone,  with  only  the 
ticking  of  the  clock  upon  the  mantel  and  the  light  of  the 
blazing  wood-fire  upon  the  hearth  to  keep  me  company,  I 
remembered  that  it  was  Christmas  Eve,  but  that,  occupied 
as  I  had  been,  I  had  forgotten  to  hang  up  my  stocking." 

Here  Mary  got  down  from  my  knee  and  crept  quietly  to 
the  chimney-corner,  where  she  hung  up  a  clean  white 
stocking,  with  which  her  mother  had  provided  her,  and, 
coming  back  laughing,  said  she  wouldn't  forget  such  a 
thing  for  all  the  world. 

"Nor  will  I,"  said  Fanny,  "so  soon  as  papa  finishes  his 
story." 

So  I  kissed  my  little  daughters,  and  continued  :  — 


216  OUT  OF  TOWN. 

"  "What  to  do  I  did  not  know.  I  could  not  get  out  of 
bed  with  any  certainty  of  being  able  to  get  back  again  ; 
and  as  for  going  to  sleep,  with  never  a  stocking  hanging 
for  Santa  Glaus  to  fill,  it  was  not  to  be  thought  of.  So  I 
determined  to  keep  wide  awake  till  either  the  good  saint 
or  my  grandmother  should  arrive  ;  but  I  found  it  very  dif 
ficult  for  my  sleepy  eyes  to  remain  open,  as  every  few 
moments  the  old  sand-man  came  along  and  dropped  black 
sand  into  them,  till  first  one  closed  and  then  the  other,  and 
at  last,  in  spite  of  all  I  could  do,  they  both  shut  up  tight, 
and  I  went  to  sleep." 

Here  Mary  opened  her  large  eyes  very  widely,  as  if  to 
let  me  see  that  no  sand-man  had  come  to  trouble  her  yet. 

"  After  I  had  slept  what  seemed  to  me  a  long  time,  I 
was  suddenly  aroused  by  hearing  the  tinkling  of  sleigh- 
bells  ;  and  as  I  raised  myself  softly  in  bed,  I  saw,  just  by 
the  fireplace,  Santa  Glaus  himself,  like  as  he  is  described 
in  the  Christmas  verses." 

Here  Mary  clapped  her  hands ;  but  Fanny  nestled  closer 
to  my  side. 

"  He  appeared  to  be  looking  for  my  stocking,  which  he 
could  not  find  ;  and  just  as  I  had  mustered  courage  to  tell 
him  where  it  was,  he  stepped  up  before  the  portrait  of  a 
grave-looking  gentleman,  who  wore  a  powdered  wig  and  dis 
played  an  abundance  of  ruffles  to  his  shirt-front  and  around 
his  wrists,  and  asked  him,  —  these  were  his  very  words,  — 
could  he  tell  where  little  Barry's  stocking  was  hung  ?  But 
no  answer  came  from  this  fine  gentleman  ;  he  only  shook  his 
head,  and  seemed  to  draw  back  into  the  depth  of  the  can 
vas.  So  Santa  Glaus  put  the  same  question  to  the  next 
portrait,  which  was  that  of  a  prim  and  starched  gentle 
woman,  evidently  the  wife  of  the  first ;  but  she  only  pursed 
up  her  lips  and  said  nothing.  So  he  questioned  the  third, 
a  jolly-looking  person,  with  a  red  nose  and  yellow  waist 
coat  with  gilt  buttons,  who  nodded  and  winked  in  return, 
but  spoke  not  a  word.  At  last,  in  despair,  he  turned  to 


OUT   OF   TOWN.  217 

the  portrait  of  a  dainty-looking  creature,  dressed  in  white 
satin,  with  a  red  rose  on  her  breast,  and  who  had  golden 
hair  and  blue  eyes,  and  a  delicate  pink  nose  that  turned  up 
towards  the  ceiling  very  prettily;  but  she  only  simpered 
and  cast  down  her  eyes,  and  evidently  wanted  to  get  up  a 
flirtation  with  the  good  saint.  But  he  seemed  so  indignant 
at  the  treatment  he  received,  that  he  turned  his  back  upon 
her,  and  would  have  gone  off  in  a  rage,  had  I  not  softly 
wished  him  a  merry  Christmas." 

"  O  papa,  how  brave  you  must  have  been,"  said  Fanny. 
"  I  am  sure  I  would  n't  have  dared  to  speak  to  him." 

"  Pshaw  !  "  exclaimed  Mary.  "  I  would  ;  and  I  'd  have 
told  him,  too,  exactly  what  I  wanted." 

"  Well,  my  children,"  I  continued,  "  my  greeting  acted 
like  a  charm,  for  he  instantly  opened  his  pack  and  took 
from  it  toys,  and  books,  and  candy,  which  he  put  upon  the 
table  at  the  bedside.  Just  as  he  finished,  a  loud  gush  of 
music  came  up  from  the  rooms  below,  and,  quickly  shoul 
dering  his  pack,  he  passed,  with  a  '  Merry  Christmas  '  on 
his  lips,  directly  up  the  chimney,  and  the  next  moment  I 
saw  the  shadow  of  his  sleigh  and  reindeers  glide  across  the 
frosted  window-panes,  while,  with  a  beating  heart,  full  of 
wild  wishes  for  the  morrow  to  come,  again  I  fell  asleep." 

As  I  finished  my  story,  a  soft  hand  was  placed  over  my 
eyes,  and  a  fond  voice  exclaimed  :  — 

"  Ah  !  what  a  sad  romancer  you  are  !  How  can  you  fill 
our  children's  minds  with  such  foolish  tales  ?  " 

But  I  soothed  my  wife  with  the  promise  of  a  set  of  furs 
on  the  morrow,  and,  taking  her  hand  in  mine,  drew  her  to 
the  chair  beside  me.  Fanny  crept  close  to  her  mother, 
and  putting  up  her  rosy  lips  for  a  kiss,  told  her  not  to  scold 
dear  papa.  And  so,  with  the  firelight  still  flickering  on 
the  wall,  -and  the  wind  roaring  and  blustering  without,  we 
passed  our  Christmas  Eve.  And  still  I  repeated  many  a 
pleasant  tale,  and  my  sweet  wife  sung  many  an  olden  song, 
and  the  children  prattled  on  my  knees. 


218  OUT  OF   TOWN. 

But  as  the  midnight  came  the  light  grew  dim,  the  fires 
smouldered  on  the  hearth,  the  songs  and  stories  ceased,  and 
the  children's  prattle  died  away.  And  as  I  stretched  out 
my  hand  to  take  my  wife's  in  mine,  I  groped  about  in  vain  ; 
my  little  Mary's  arm  no  longer  clasped  my  neck,  nor 
Fanny's  head  rested  upon  my  shoulder.  I  started  up  and 
found  that  all  had  been  a  dream,  —  that  wife  and  children 
of  mine  lived  not  yet  upon  the  earth,  but  had  place  only  in 
that  far-off  and  sunny  land  of  Utopia,  where  so  many  men's 
possessions  and  treasures  ever  remain. 

But  I  heard  the  church-bells  ringing  midnight,  and  pro 
claiming  to  all  the  world  the  glad  tidings,  that  "  Unto  us 
this  night  is  born,  in  the  city  of  David,  a  Saviour,  which  is 
Christ  the  Lord."  And  my  voice  joined  in  the  mighty 
chorus,  which  from  all  Christendom  arose,  "  Glory  to  God 
in  the  highest;  and  on  earth  peace,  good-will  towards 
men." 

When  I  finished,  my  wife  said  it  was  a  very  pretty  story, 
and  the  children  were  urgent  for  me  to  tell  them  another. 
But  as  it  was  time  for  them  to  go  to  bed,  and  their  mother 
expected  me  to  go  out  with  her  to  make  a  call  on  a  young 
bride,  I  was  compelled  to  decline  the  honor  of  telling 
another,  and  to  declare  the  meeting  around  the  library 
lamp  to  be  ended. 


OUT  OF   TOWN.  219 


CHAPTER  XXXV. 

Christmas  Eve.  —  No  Christmas.  —  Another  Story.  —  Holiday  Nights' 
Entertainments. —  Good  Children.  —  Utopia. — An  old  Bank  Clerk. — 
Striking  a  Balance.  —  Old  Tom.  —  Mary  and  Fanny.  —  Hanging  up 
Stockings. 

I-IRISTMAS  must  be  here,  Mrs.  Gray,"  I  said,  as, 
looking  up  from  the  book  I  was  reading,  I  observed 
the  little  ones  engaged  in  hanging  their  stock 
ings  beside  the  blazing  grate,  with  evident  faith  in  Santa 
Claus. 

"  Not  quite,"  she  answered,  "  although  Christinas  Eve 
may,  after  all,  be  designated  as  such.  The  children, 
evidently,  believe  it  to  be  already  here,  and  will  go  to  bed 
with  all  manner  of  fancies  in  their  little  heads." 

"  Nothing  can  be  better,"  I  said,  "  than  to  have  this 
holiday  come  once  a  year,  as  it  does.  Suppose,  though, 
through  some  unforeseen  circumstance,  —  an  actual  im 
possibility,  however,  —  the  present  month  should  pass 
away,  and  the  year  1865  close  without  Christmas  making 
its  appearance." 

Here  the  children  opened  their  eyes  and  looked  fright 
ened. 

"  How  severely,  in  the  future,"  I  continued,  "  we  would 
criticize  —  and  with  justice,  too  —  the  year  that  had  no 
Christmas  in  it !  How  the  little  ones,  who  hang  up  their 
stockings  on  Christmas  eves,  and  dream  beautiful  dreams 
on  this  night,  would  shudder  and  turn  pale  as  their  nurses 
recounted  to  them  the  frightful  epoch  bereft  of  Santa  Claus, 
and,  as  a  matter  of  course,  of  the  numberless  gifts  which 
the  old  saint,  who  is  no  niggard,  freely  dispenses  to  all 
good  little  boys  and  girls." 


220  OUT  OF   TOWN. 

Here  the  little  folks  looked  sorrowfully  at  each  other. 

"  Once  there  was  a  time,  strange  as  it  may  seem,  when 
the  years  really  possessed  no  Christmas  ;  but  this  was  long 
ago,  in  the  dark  ages,  before  our  Saviour's  day.  Now  we, 
who  live  in  the  Christian  era,  need  not  fear  that  ever  a 
year  will  pass  unhallowed  by  Christmas  and  ungladdened 
by  Christmas  cheer.  Oh,  it  is  excellent  to  live  in  these 
times,  and  be  a  little  boy  or  girl,  and  have  presents  given 
to  you,  and  take  sleigh-rides,"  - 

Here  the  three  little  ones  clapped  their  hands  in  glee. 

"  And  go  to  church,  where  you  may  hear  sweet  anthems 
sung,  and  listen  to  the  story  —  which  all  have  heard  told 
over  and  over  again,  but  which  ever  seems  new  and  beau 
tiful  —  of  the  shepherds  on  the  plains  of  Bethlehem,  who, 
while  watching  their  flocks  by  night,  beheld  the  Star  in  the 
East." 

"  Now,  papa,  do  please,"  cried  Em.,  "  tell  vis  something 
more  about  your  children  in  Utopia." 

"  Well,  if  you  will  be  very  good  little  ones,  and  not  go 
to  sleep  while  I  am  telling  it,  —  though  Miss  Floy,  I  '11 
warrant,  will  see  to  your  not  doing  aught  so  impolite,  —  I 
will  promise  to  relate  all  I  know  about  the  precious  family 
in  Utopia,  which  was  mine  long  before  I  knew  your  dear 
mother,  or  had  such  good  little  bodies  as  you  are  to  get  my 
slippers  and  easy  chair  ready  for  me  when  I  come  home. 
But  this  story  is  a  very  long  one,  and  as  I  shall  not  be  able 
to  tell  it  all  in  one  evening,  I  will  divide  it  up  through  the 
Christmas  week,  and  will  call  it  the  Holiday  Nights'  Enter 
tainments." 

"  Oh,  that  will  be  nice,"  said  Em. 

"  It  will  be  nice,"  echoed  Mary. 

And  "  That 's  bully,"  said  the  boy. 

"  William  Howard,"  said  Miss  Floy,  reprovingly,  "  I  am 
astonished  to  hear  you  utter  such  a  coarse  expression. 
How  many  times  have  I  cautioned  you  against  speaking  in 
an  improper  manner  ?  " 


OUT  OF   TOWN.  221 

"  Nary  time,"  he  replied. 

"  There  it  is  again,"  she  continued ;  "  you  certainly  are 
incorrigible.  I  shall  have  to  give  you  a  long  lesson  in 
your  spelling-book  to-morrow  as  a  punishment,  if  you  make 
such  a  remark  again.  Miss  Emma  Louisa,  now,  is  behav 
ing  herself  like  a  lady,  and,  when  Saturday  comes,  if  she 
continues  to  be  good,  she  shall  come  to  my  room  and  hear 
me  read  some  of  my  play." 

Em.  frowned  and  looked  cross. 

"  I  am  sure,"  said  Miss  Floy,  observing  her,  "  it  is  quite 
as  interesting  as,  and  much  more  instructive  than,  the 
foolish  story  your  papa  is  going  to  read." 

"  It  ain't,  is  it,  papa  ?  "  asked  Em. 

"  It  may  not  be  to  you,  my  child,"  I  replied,  "  but  to 
me  it  is  much  more  so." 

This  acknowledgment  quite  pleased  Miss  Floy,  who 
smoothed  out  the  creases  in  her  silk  dress,  and  then,  with 
a  smiling  countenance,  sat  down  near  Mrs.  Gray  to  listen, 
with  the  children,  to  the  story  of — 

MY  FAMILY  IN  UTOPIA. 

MINE  is  a  precious  family.  It  consists  of  a  wife  and  two 
children.  Some  of  you,  perhaps,  may  remember  having 
heard  of  them.  Their  residence,  I  am  happy  to  state,  is 
in  Utopia.  I  manage  to  see  them  several  times  in  the 
course  of  the  year.  Sometimes  they  come  to  me,  but 
oftener  I  go  to  them.  Of  an  evening  —  especially  a  winter 
evening  —  it  is  my  delight  to  visit  them.  There  is  no 
stage-line,  nor  canal,  nor  railroad  leading  to  Utopia ;  only 
a  balloon  flies  occasionally  from  a  chateau  in  Spain,  where 
I  pass  many  of  my  evenings,  to  the  vine-clad  cottage  in 
which  they  live.  I  have  never  been  able  to  learn  exactly 
where  Utopia  is  situated,  though  I  have  made  diligent 
search  for  it  on  many  maps,  at  various  times.  I  have  often 
thought  that  if  any  one  were  capable  of  giving  me  in 
formation  regarding  its  locality,  it  would  be  Sinbad  the 


222  OUT  OF  TOWN. 

Sailor.  I  once  wrote  him  a  letter  of  inquiry  concerning  it, 
but  when  I  came  to  superscribe  his  name,  I  could  not,  for 
the  life  of  me,  tell  his  place  of  residence  ;  nor,  by  refer 
ring  to  his  biography,  as  reported  in  the  "Arabian  Nights," 
could  I  obtain  any  clew  as  to  his  whereabouts.  So  the 
letter  to  him  was  never  mailed.  If  I  could  remain  awake 
when  journeying  to  Utopia,  I  think  I  might,  without  doubt, 
settle  to  my  perfect  satisfaction  both  its  latitude  and  lon 
gitude  ;  but  I  invariably  go  to  sleep  on  my  way  thither.  I 
have  heard  of  men  who  spent  their  lives  seeking  in  vain 
to  locate  it.  There  is  something,  I  confess,  a  little  strange 
and  misty  in  all  this,  —  something  I  do  not  quite  under 
stand,  and  I  fear  I  never  shall.  I  used  to  puzzle  over  it  a 
good  deal  at  first,  when  I  was  young ;  but  now,  grown 
older,  I  think  it  better  to  strive  more  to  discover  the  exact 
spot  where  great  peace,  and  contentment,  and  righteous 
ness  dwell,  than  to  be  wondering  and  worrying  any  more 
about  the  position  of  Utopia. 

Few  persons  of  my  acquaintance  suspect  my  being  at 
the  head  of  a  family.  There  are  no  signs  to  denote  either 
the  husband  or  father  in  my  appearance.  No  lines  of  care 
are  traceable  on  my  brow  ;  no  white  hairs  mingle  with  my 
brown  locks  ;  no  sighs  rise  from  my  bosom,  nor  is  my 
form  less  erect  than  when  I  was  a  bachelor.  On  the  con 
trary,  there  is  much  to  convince  my  friends  that  I  am 
unmarried.  I  am  well  preserved  ;  my  constitution  is  unim 
paired  ;  my  step  as  elastic  as  it  was  twenty  years  ago ; 
and,  I  am  gratified  to  be  able  to  say  it,  I  whistle  as  I  walk. 
Sometimes,  even,  I  find  myself  singing,  not  in  a  low  tone, 
but  loud  enough  to  be  heard  above  the  city's  din.  It  is 
well  that  the  fact  of  my  being  a  husband  and  father  should 
remain  a  secret  to  the  bulk  of  my  acquaintance.  I  am 
very  glad  that  the  directors  of  the  bank  where  I  hold  a 
situation  as  clerk,  regard  me  as  a  single  man.*  Should 
they  ascertain  my  true  position  in  social  life,  they  might 
wonder  how  I  contrive  to  support  myself  and  family  on 


OUT  OF  TOWN.  223 

the  slender  salary  I  receive.  They  would,  doubtless,  think 
it  well  to  examine,  oftener  than  they  do,  my  accounts. 
Not  that  I  should  object  to  their  doing  so,  —  for  I  have  no 
fears  but  they  would  find  each  quantity  correct,  —  yet  their 
wonder  would  thereby  be  the  more  increased,  and  they 
might  think  I  was  too  crafty  for  them  ;  and,  their  suspi 
cions  once  excited,  it  would  end  in  my  dismissal.  Were 
they  to  know  the  truth,  even,  that  I  add  a  few  pennies 
to  my  scanty  wages  by  occasionally  contributing  an  article 
to  the  magazines,  this,  in  itself,  would  be  a  sufficient  reason 
for  dismissing  me  from  the  desk  I  have  so  long  occupied. 
These  Wall  Street  directors,  I  have  observed,  with  some 
exceptions,  are  amazingly  shy  of  all  who,  like  myself,  de 
light  to  dabble  in  literature.  It  does  not  appear  proper  to 
them  for  a  book-keeper  to  be,  even  in  a  small  way,  a  book- 
writer.  Therefore  it  is  that  with  the  wily  public  I  choose 
to  pass  for  an  unmarried  man,  having  no  desire  to  rise 
higher  in  the  social  scale  than  just  what  I  am  taken  for, 
namely,  a  solitary,  ill-paid  bank  clerk.  In  Wall  Street  dur 
ing  banking  hours,  I  am  neither  more  or  less  than  this. 
My  intimate  friends  —  I  have  some  intimate  friends  whose 
positions  in  life  are  humble  as  my  own  -— •  regard  me  in  a 
somewhat  different  light,  for  the  reason,  it  may  be,  that 
they  look  at  me  from  a  directly  opposite  point  of  view. 
The  directors  behold  in  me  simply  a  dependent ;  my 
friends  consider  me  their  equal,  perceive  a  few  good  points 
in  iny  character,  and  speak  of  me  with  praise  —  somewhat 
qualified,  however. 

Sometimes,  when  I  have  been  detained  at  the  bank  till 
late  in  the  evening,  I  have  astonished  the  Custom-house, 
as  I  passed  it,  with  a  series  of  whistles  so  jubilant  and 
shrill,  that  the  weathercock  above  its  roof  has  whirled 
around  in  affright,  to  learn  what  was  in  the  wind.  But 
such  proceedings,  on  my  part,  within  the  dollar-getting 
precincts  of  Wall  Street,  do  not  often  occur.  It  is  only 
when  I  step  into  the  shadow  of  the  cross  that  surmounts 


224  OUT  OF  TOWN. 

Trinity's  spire,  that  I  put  off,  as  I  would  a  garment,  the 
mildewed  air  of  a  bank  clerk,  and  assume  the  sunshiny 
lounge  of  a  man  of  leisure.  I  do  not,  however,  suppose 
that  my  assumed  character  imposes  on  any  one.  I  feel  the 
disguise  is  altogether  too  feeble.  I  can  detect  such  in 
another  as  quickly  as  I  do  a  counterfeit  bill.  I  take  the 
character  simply  to  please  myself,  and,  as  I  stroll  up  Broad 
way,  among  gayly  attired  ladies  and  well-dressed  men,  I 
forget  that  I  am  nailed,  like  a  spurious  coin,  to  a  bank 
desk,  while  I  revel  for  a  time  in  the  brief  Arcadian  dream 
of  happiness  I  conjure  up. 

On  the  last  day  of  the  year  just  passed,  when  I  glanced 
over  my  private  account  with  the  bank,  preparatory  to 
striking  a  balance,  I  was  surprised  to  find  that  a  sum  which 
the  figure  X  would  cover,  and  leave  a  wide  margin,  was  all 
that  would  be  coming  to  me.  I  examined  my  pass-book 
several  times  very  carefully,  to  make  certain  I  was  correct. 
I  even  hoped  that,  somewhere,  I  had  made  a  mistake  in 
my  calculations.  Though  I  pride  myself  on  my  accuracy 
as  regards  balancing  other  people's  accounts,  yet,  in  my 
own  case,  I  should  have  been  pleased  to  detect  an  error,  if 
in  my  favor,  though  it  were  at  the  expense  of  my  pride. 
I  confess  I  was  exceedingly  disappointed  in  the  result 
before  me.  I  had  expected  that  at  least  five  times  that 
trifling  sum  would  have  been  my  due.  Visions  of  several 
unpaid  accounts  rose  up  before  me,  —  accounts  which  I  had 
promised  to  settle  early  in  the  new  year.  I  felt  quite 
unnerved  when  I  thought  of  them.  I  really  pitied  the 
holders  of  those  little  accounts.  Especially  did  my  pity 
flow  towards  my  landlady.  I  knew  she  quite  relied  on 
receiving  from  me  full  twenty  dollars.  I  thought,  at 
first,  that  I  would  give  her  my  note  at  thirty  days ;  but 
then  I  felt  certain  she  would  ask  the  bank  to  discount 
it.  And  the  idea  of  having  "  our  directors "  sitting 
in  solemn  council  over  my  poor  note,  was  ridiculous. 
"  No,  no,"  I  said,  "  a  bank  clerk  must  n't  give  notes,  — 
that 's  certain." 


OUT  OF  TOWN.  225 

"When  the  hour  for  closing  the  bank  came,  I  found  that 
I  was  behindhand  with  my  work.  I  hastened,  therefore, 
to  finish  it.  It  was  long,  however,  after  the  other  clerks 
had  gone  home  that  I  brought  my  duties  to  an  end.  At 
length  my  year's  work  was  finished.  And  as  I  laid  my 
weary  head  on  the  desk,  over  which  I  had  bent  for  more 
than  a  dozen  years,  I  thought  how  like  an  arithmetic  had 
been  my  life  !  Nothing  but  figure  added  to  figure  in  all 
those  years.  I  had  fingered  gold,  and  silver,  and  notes,  — 
an  unknown  but  vast  amount,  —  and  now,  of  all  this,  what 
was  mine  ?  I  crumpled  the  note  I  held  within  my  fingers 
with  a  nervous  grasp,  which,  had  it  been  a  living  thing, 
would  have  made  it  shriek  aloud.  I  gazed  about  the 
apartment,  as  though  I  should  have  liked  to  find  the 
president,  or  cashier,  or  some  one  of  the  directors,  on 
whom  I  might  vent  my  anger;  but  my  eyes  only  en 
countered  the  wrinkled  face  of  the  old  black  man, 
who  sat  beside  the  stove,  patiently  waiting  my  departure, 
that  he  might  bar  the  window-shutters  and  lock  the  outer 
doors. 

As  I  passed  out,  the  hearty  "  Happy  New  Year  "  uttered 
by  faithful  Old  Tom,  helped  to  lighten  my  grief.  I  felt 
still  more  relieved  when,  just  as  I  stepped  on  the  sidewalk, 
I  heard  the  bells  of  Trinity  chiming  the  hour  ;  for  they 
recalled  to  my  mind  the  hymn  which  on  Christmas  Day  the 
same  chimes  rung  forth,  proclaiming  "  on  earth  peace, 
good-will  to  men."  With  this  remembrance,  joy  returned 
to  my  heart,  and  it  was  with  a  light  step  that  I  mingled 
with  the  crowd  which  glided  up  Broadway. 

It  was  dusk  when  I  turned  down  the  side-street  wherein 
is  located  my  boarding-house.  As  I  mounted  the  three 
flights  of  stairs  leading  to  my  room,  I  thought  —  why,  I  can 
not  tell  —  of  my  family  in  Utopia.  It  had  been  long  since 
I  had  seen  them.  I  had  been  so  engrossed  by  my  daily 
labors,  that  I  had  scarcely  given  them  a  thought.  Now 
however,  —  perhaps  because  the  year  was  so  nigh  its  end, 

15 


226  OUT  OF  TOWN. 

—  I  recalled  my  wife's  sweet  looks,  and  my  daughter .V 
charming  ways,  and  I  resolved  to  pass  New  Year's  Day 
with  them. 

When  I  entered  my  apartment,  I  found  a  bright  fire 
burning  within  the  grate.  My  easy  chair  was  drawn  in 
front  of 'it ;  my  dressing-gown  rested  across  its  back,  and 
my  slippers  lay  on  the  soft  rug.  I  felt  that  fairy  fingers 
had  been  at  work.  I  stopped  in  the  centre  of  the  room, 
and  gazed  curiously  about.  It  seemed  to  me  that  pure 
spirits  were  near.  I  thought  I  could  detect  the  sound  of 
their  rustling  robes.  I  listened  attentively,  when  forth 
from  the  shadow  of  my  great  arm-chair  sprung  towards 
me,  encircling  my  neck  in  their  fond  embrace,  my  two  chil 
dren,  Mary  and  Fanny. 

How  they  had  found  their  way  to  my  apartment,  from 
their  far-off  home,  I  did  not  think  to  ask.  I  did,  however, 
for  a  moment,  wonder  whether  they  had  escaped  the  prying 
eyes  of  my  landlady,  in  their  passage  through  the  halls 
and  staircases.  But  this  was  all  forgotten  in  my  joy  at 
beholding  and  clasping  them  to  my  heart.  After  they  had 
taken  my  hat  and  over-coat,  and  brought  me  my  slippers 
and  dressing-gown,  they  seated  me  in  the  easy  chair,  and 
then,  climbing  upon  my  knees,  they  placed  their  little 
faces  close  to  mine,  and  kissed  me,  first,  as  they  said,  for 
dear  mamma,  and  then,  afterwards,  for  themselves.  When 
I  asked  why  their  good  mother  did  not  come  with  them, 
Mary  exclaimed,  quickly,  that  mamma  had  sent  them  to 
take  papa  to  her ;  while  Fanny,  laying  her  soft  hand  on 
my  cheek,  whispered,  "  Dear  papa  will  go  with  his  little 
darlings,  —  will  he  not  ?  "  Then  Mary  wanted  to  know 
whether  I  knew  that  it  was  New  Year's  Eve,  and  straight 
way  proceeded  to  inform  me  that  last  Sunday  night  was 
Christmas  Eve,  but  that  she  did  n't  believe  it,  hardly  ;  for, 
though  both  Fanny  and  herself  hung  up  their  stockings, 
Santa  Glaus  failed  to  put  anything  in  them  ;  and,  for  her 
part,  she  thought  that  if  it  were  really  Christmas,  the  old 


OUT  OF   TOWN.  227 

fellow  would  have  given  them  something.  Fanny  was 
quite  shocked  at  hearing  Mary  call  Santa  Glaus  "  old 
fellow,"  and  said  that  she  knew  it  was  Christmas,  for  mam 
ma  had  said  so ;  and  if  Santa  Clans  had  n't  given  them 
anything,  she  supposed  it  was  because  they  were  such  very 
little  girls,  that  maybe  he  'd  forgotten  them.  And  besides, 
she  added,  they  lived  so  far  away  from  New  York,  that 
perhaps  he  had  no  time  to  go  to  them.  "  Any  ways,"  said 
Mary,  pouting  her  lips,  "  it  was  real  mean  in  him."  This 
speech  greatly  frightened  Fanny,  who  clung  closer  to  me, 
and  asked  if  Santa  Glaus  ever  got  vexed  with  what  little 
girls  said  of  him  ?  I  replied  that  he  sometimes  did,  but 
he  was  of  such  a  gentle  disposition  that  he  soon  forgave 
whatever  naughty  things  they  uttered.  Mary  hereupon 
evinced  quite  a  penitential  spirit,  and  remarked  that  she 
was  sorry  for  what  she  had  said ;  but  added,  after  a  pause, 
during  which  she  seemed  to  have  been  considering  the 
matter,  it  was  mean  anyhow.  I  then  told  them  I  thought 
the  reason  why  they  had  obtained  nothing  on  Christmas 
was,  that  the  good  saint  had  not  time  to  go  to  Utopia  ; 
"  But  I  have  no  doubt,"  I  continued,  "  in  regard  to  his  fill 
ing  your  stockings  to-night." 

Here  Fanny,  I  perceived,  glanced  about  my  room,  and, 
seeing  no  fireplace,  immediately  wished  to  know  if  Santa 
Claus  could  get  through  the  bars  of  a  grate.  After  I  had 
satisfied  her  on  this  point,  Mary  immediately  inquired 
whether  the  old  saint  could  become  little,  for  I  had  once 
told  her  that  he  was  as  large  as  Grandpa  Gray. 
When  I  had  explained  this  matter  to  their  entire  satisfac 
tion,  they  desired  to  know  where  would  be  the  best  place 
to  hang  their  stockings.  Having  decided  this  important 
matter,  Fanny  exclaimed,  with  considerable  feeling,  that 
they  had  forgotten  to  bring  clean  ones  with  them.  This 
for  a  moment  cast  a  shadow  over  their  fair  faces.  Mary, 
however,  was  the  first  to  recover.  "  Ho*!  "  said  she,  "  these 
I  've  got  on  will  be  good  enough  for  me."  But  Fanny's 


228  OUT  OF  TOWN. 

lip  curled,  the  tears  sprung  to  her  eyes,  and  her  voice 
trembled,  as  she  said  that  she  could  n't  bear  to  have  Santa 
Glaus  see  her  soiled  stockings.  No !  she  'd  rather  go 
without  anything  than  have  him.  Then  I  promised  them 
both  that  we  would  go  out  into  Broadway,  so  soon  as  the 
gas-lamps  were  lighted,  to  buy  each  a  pair  of  nice  new 
stockings  ;  and  in  the  mean  time  I  would  tell  them  a  story. 
This  proposal  so  delighted  Mary  that  she  clapped  her  tiny 
hands,  while  Fanny  kissed  me  on  the  lips,  and  called  me 
her  good  papa. 

"  And  here  closes,  my  little  ones,"  I  said  to  the  children 
grouped  around  me,  "  the  first  part  of  our  Christmas  Nights' 
Entertainments.  To-morrow  evening  I  will  tell  you  a 
story  within  a  story,  being  that  of  '  Merry  Clochette,' 
which  I  related  to  my  children  in  Utopia." 


OUT  OF   TOWN.  229 


CHAPTER  XXXVI. 

Story  within  a  Story.  —  "  Merry  Clochette."  —  Misses  Vane.  —  Lite  Eod, 
Esquire.  —  A  Yellow  Gown.  —  Messrs.  Chimes.  —  A  Young  Clergyman- 
Two  Pigeons.  —  Monsieur  Horloge.  —  Keeping  Watch. 

'HE  following  evening,  as  soon  as  we  had  gone 
to  the  library  from  the  dinner-table,  Miss  Em., 
even  before  I  had  lighted  my  cigar,  importuned 
me  to  go  on  with  my  story  of  "  My  Children  in  Utopia," 
arid  especially  to  remember  that  I  promised  to  tell  them  a 
story  within  a  story,  entitled,  "  Merry  Clochette."  So,  as 
the  little  ones  were  all  ears,  I  commenced  as  follows :  — 

"  Once  on  a  time,  no  matter  when,  there  dwelt,  no 
matter  where,  a  young  lady  of  French  extraction,  named 
Clochette,  —  Merry  Clochette,  the  good  neighbors,  who 
loved  to  hear  her  voice,  called  her.  There  were  others, 
however,  not  so  partial  to  her,  who  spoke  of  her  as  noisy 
Clochette ;  and  a  few,  even,  I  am  sorry  to  say,  who  said 
that,  after  all,  she  was  no  better  than  a  brazen  belle.  These 
last  were  certainly  ill-natured  persons,  and  ought  to  have 
been  ashamed  of  themselves." 

Hereupon  Fanny  said  she  thought  they  would  have 
been. 

"  Strange  as  it  may  seem,"  I  continued,  "  the  home  of 
Merry  Clochette  was  high  up  in  the  tower  of  an  old 
church." 

"  How  nice  that  must  have  been  !  "  said  Mary. 

"  Here,  indeed,  she  passed  all  her  time  ;  but,  though 
she  led  so  solitary  a  life,  Mademoiselle  Clochette  was  a 
very  talkative  little  body.  Her  tongue  was  in  almost  con 
stant  motion.  If  there  were  anything  of  importance  going 


230  OUT  OF   TOWN. 

on  in  the  neighborhood,  she  was  sure  to  be  the  first  to 
bruit  it  abroad.  No  one  could  get  married  but  she  learned 
the  news  as  soon  as  any ;  and  then  you  could  hear  her 
voice  ringing  through  the  clear  air,  telling  it  over  and  over 
to  every  one  who  would  listen.  Or,  if  a  baby  were  to  be 
christened,  she  had  its  name  at  her  tongue's  end,  only  she 
could  n't  always  pronounce  it  properly,  though  she  often 
came  pretty  near  to  doing  so.  Then,  too,  when  any  one 
died,  she  was  about  the  first  that  told  it,  and  would  name 
with  great  accuracy,  the  number  of  years  the  deceased 
had  lived." 

Fanny  here  remarked,  she  thought  Miss  Merry  must 
have  been  a  very  curious  lady  to  have  known  all  these 
affairs ;  while  Mary  said  she  guessed  the  lady  must  have 
been  very  inquisitive,  and  asked  a  great  many  questions. 
I  answered  simply  by  telling  them  to  listen,  and  proceeded. 

"  On  all  occasions  of  rejoicing  —  on  May-days  and  on 
Christmas  —  Mademoiselle  Clochette  was  certain  to  be 
very  merry  and  talkative ;  and  if  at  any  time  a  house,  or 
even  a  rough  shed,  chanced  to  be  on  fire,  she  made  noise 
enough  to  wake  everybody  within  hearing.  Dwelling  so 
high  above  the  earth,  she  had  a  fine  opportunity  to  behold 
all  that  went  on  below  her ;  so  that  it  is  not  to  be  won 
dered  at  that  she  talked  a  great  deal.  Yet  it  is  conceded 
by  all  that  she  never  uttered  a  sound  unless  she  was  re 
quested  so  to  do." 

Mary  thought  this  very  strange ;  but  Fanny  said  not  a 
word. 

"  Oh  !  "  I  continued,  "  she  was  very  much  of  a  lady,  and 
belonged,  I  assure  you,  to  a  high-toned  family,  —  one  that 
occupied  rather  an  exalted  position  in  society.  She  was 
connected,  too,  with  the  Vane  family,  —  very  aristocratic 
people,  —  some  of  which  held  the  highest  places  in  the 
church.  They  are,  however,  rather  a  fickle,  changeable 
set,  and  would  be  likely  any  day  to  turn  on  her  a  cold 
shoulder.  She  is  connected  with  them  by  marriage.  Her 


OUT  OF  TOWN.  231 

cousin,  L.  Rod,  Esq.,  a  tall,  thin  young  man,  who  rose 
from  a  position  far  below  her,  had  succeeded  in  consum 
mating  a  matrimonial  connection  with  one  of  the  Misses 
Vane,  a  young  lady  bedizened  with  a  large  amount  of  gilt. 
Lite  Rod  considered  this  a  great  alliance,  and  often,  espe 
cially  on  windy  nights,  alluded  to  it  in  the  presence  of  his 
cousin  Merry.  She  was  not,  however,  too  well  pleased 
with  his  boastings,  and  used  sometimes  to  tell  him  that, 
though  his  head  might  be  in  the  clouds,  yet  his  feet  were, 
nevertheless,  in  the  earth  ;  which  was  true  enough.  When- 

O 

ever  Merry  said  this  to  him,  he  retorted  by  replying  that 
she  herself  owed  the  position  she  occupied  to  a  scaffolding 
and  a  rope  ;  which,  lamentably  enough,  was  just  as  he 
represented.  But  I  cannot  now  explain  this  matter,  for 
't  is  a  long  story,  and,  indeed,  will  scarcely  bear  repeating." 

Mary  here  expressed  considerable  curiosity  to  know  why 
it  would  not  bear  repeating ;  but  Fanny  cried,  "  Hush ! 
listen  to  what  papa  chooses  to  tell  us."  So  I  kissed  little 
Fanny  on  her  lips,  and  patted,  half  reprovingly,  half 
caressingly,  my  Mary's  silken  hair. 

"  But  for  all  this,"  I  said,  continuing  my  story,  "  Miss 
Merry  was  quite  a  lady,  and  wore  always  a  yellow  gown, 
nearly  the  color  of  gold,  which,  when  the  sun  shone  full 
on  it,  you  would  have  declared  was  really  made  from  that 
precious  metal." 

"  How  fine  a  sight  she  must  have  been ! "  exclaimed 
Mary.  "  And  so  lady-like,"  added  Fanny. 

"  Of  course,  Mademoiselle  Clochette,  who  had  been  a 
belle  a  great  many  years,  had  not  been  without  many  ad 
mirers.  Yes,  there  were  the  three  brothers,  the  Messrs. 
Chimes,  who  lived  in  a  new  stone  tower,  about  half  a  mile 
distant  from  Merry,  who  were  all  desperately  in  love  with 
her.  Such  delightful  serenades  as  they  gave  her  on  sum 
mer  evenings,  and  such  strange,  wild  stories  as  they  told 
her  o'  winter  nights,  were  very  wonderful.  But  these  ser 
enades  and  stories  had  no  effect  on  Merry  Clochette.  She 


232  OUT  OF  TOWN. 

either  turned  quite  a  deaf  ear  to  tliem,  or  else  she  mocked 
them  with  such  silvery  sounding  laughter  as  made  them 
believe  their  singing  was  most  discordant.  Poor  fellows ! 

O        O 

they  took  her  coolness  quite  to  heart ;  and  one  by  one 
their  voices  became  cracked  and  harsh,  till  at  last  they  fell 
from  the  tower,  lost  the  use  of  their  tongues,  and  never 
uttered  a  loud  word  afterward.  When  Merry  heard  of 
their  accident,  she  was  quite  doleful  for  three  whole  days, 
and  then,  on  the  fourth,  she  forgot  all  about  them." 

Fanny  thought  this  very  cruel  in  Miss  Clochette,  and 
came  near  crying  ;  but  Mary  shook  her  curls,  and  laughed 
outright. 

"  Then  again,"  I  went  on,  "  there  was  the  old  sexton, 
who  lived  close  by ;  he  used  on  sunny  afternoons  to 
climb  up  in  the  tower,  and,  sitting  by  her  side,  rest  his 
poor  old  head  on  her  breast.  Though  he  never  really  told 
her  that  he  loved  her,  yet  she  knew  it  by  the  glances  and 
sighs  he  gave  her.  But,  because  he  was  an  old  man,  gray- 
haired,  and  wrinkled,  and  bent,  and,  moreover,  had  buried 
such  a  number  of  wives,  —  more  than  a  hundred,  I  have 
heard,  —  she  never  gave  him  the  least  encouragement. 
Still,  she  enjoyed  his  society  very  much,  and  often  be 
guiled  his  weary  old  heart  from  sadness  by  her  merry 
tones." 

Fanny  said  that  she  should  have  dearly  loved  the  old 
sexton,  if  he  were  anything  like  dear  Grandpa  Gray.  But 
Mary  remarked  that  she  should  n't  care  to  marry  him  for 
all  that,  for  he  was  too  much  like  Blue-Beard. 

"  Besides  him,  my  little  ones,"  I  continued,  "  there  was 
the  young  clergyman  that  officiated  in  the  church,  who,  in 
the  early  mornings,  often  visited  her,  and  read  aloud  his 
sermons  for  the  coming  Sabbath.  These  were  very  in 
structive  and  interesting  for  Merry  to  hear ;  but  I  don't 
think  she  profited  by  them  one  bit." 

"  How  shameful  in  her,"  said  Fanny. 

"  Because,"   I  continued,  not   heeding  the  interruption, 


OUT  OF  TOWN.  233 

"  she  was  so  much  occupied  in  watching  his  handsome  face. 
Then  he  possessed  such  mild  looks,  and  his  voice  was  so 
soft,  and  he  had  such  winning  ways,  withal,  that  she  was 
quite  charmed,  and  became,  before  she  was  aware  of  it, 
very  much  in  love  with  the  gentle  clergyman.  But  he  did 
not  once  suspect  this  in  her,  because  he  was  so  much  en 
gaged  doing  his  Master's  work." 

Mary  spoke  here,  and  said  that  she  could  have  loved 
him,  but  not  the  old  sexton. 

"  Merry  Clochette,  I  think,  acted  very  wisely  in  the 
matter,  and  when  she  perceived  that  he  cared  not  for  her, 
she  straightway  determined  to  forget  him.  To  enable  her 
the  sooner  and  better  to  do  this,  she  resolved  to  occupy 
her  time  in  some  cheerful  manner.  Luckily  for  her,  two 
pigeons  had  built  their  nest  on  the  cross-beam  just  over 
her  head  ;  and  it  became  her  great  delight  to  watch  them, 
and  study  their  life  and  habits.  Oh,  they  were  a  source  of 
great  comfort  to  Merry  Clochette,  for 

'  Summer  and  winter  those  birds  were  there, 
Out  and  in,  in  the  morning  air.' 

And  so,  little  by  little,  she  came  to  forget  the  young  clergy 
man. 

"  Yet,  poor  little  thing !  she  could  not  help  but  feel 
lonely,  sometimes,  up  there  in  the  old  tower,  and  greatly 
desired  some  one  to  love." 

"  Had  she  no  papa,  or  mamma,  or  grandpa,  whom  she 
could  love  ?  "  asked  Fanny. 

"  No,"  I  said  ;  "  she  was  all  alone,  and  never  knew 
what  it  was  to  have  a  parent." 

"  Poor  Merry !  "  cried  Fanny,  and  the  tears  stood  in  her 
eyes  ;  while  Mary  exclaimed,  —  "  Poh  !  don't  cry,  Fan. ;  it 's 
only  a  story." 

"  Simpleton  !  that  Merry  Clochette  was,"  I  proceeded, 
"  she  did  not  know  that  in  the  apartment  directly  below 
her  dwelt  a  gentleman,  —  Monsieur  Horloge,  —  who  for 


234  OUT  OF  TOWN. 

years  had  thought  and  spoken  only  of  her.  But,  as  he 
was  a  most  bashful  youth,  he  had  never  dared  to  show  his 
face  in  her  presence.  Indeed,  he  kept  his  hands  con 
stantly  before  it,  and  no  one  could  prevail  on  him  to  take 
them  away." 

"  What  a  foolish  man  ! "  exclaimed  Mary. 

"  Sometimes  he  was  quite  run  down  and  low-spirited ; 
besides,  he  was  disposed  to  be  quarrelsome,  and  never  hesi 
tated  to  strike  one,  if  he  thought  proper  so  to  do.  So 
that,  after  all,  it  was  just  as  well,  perhaps,  that  little  Merry 
did  not  know  him ;  for  I  don't  believe  they  would,  if  they 
had  married,  have  dwelt  happily  together.  He  would,  I 
am  certain,  have  been  always  striking ;  while  she,  for  her 
part,  would  have  told  something  concerning  him  every 
hour.  Still  it  was  sad  to  hear  him  muttering  to  himself 
all  day  and  all  night,  never  ceasing  a  single  minute,  and 
all  because  he  was  so  desperately  in  love  with  Merry  Clo- 
chette." 

"  How  very  pitiful ! "  said  Fanny,  clasping  her  little 
hands,  and  looking  into  my  face. 

"  At  last,  one  Christmas  Day,  a  personage,  very  grand- 
looking,  wrapped  in  costly  furs,  came  in  a  sleigh,  drawn  by 
reindeers,  to  visit  Mademoiselle  Clochette.  Her  cousin, 
Lite  Rod,  Esq.,  led  him  up  to  her  room.  Here  he  sat  by 
her  side  so  long,  and  laid  his  gloved  hand  so  caressingly 
upon  her  yellow  gown,  that  all  the  neighbors,  who,  of 
course,  were  watching,  declared  that  Merry  Clochette  had 
a  beau." 

Fanny  hereupon  clapped  her  hands,  and  said  she  was 
glad  of  it ;  while  Mary  added,  she  guessed  Miss  Clochette 
was  glad  enough  too. 

"  Through  the  short  afternoon,  and  far  into  the  cold 
night,  the  idle  neighbors  kept  watch  ;  some,  provided  with 
spy-glasses,  and  lunettes,  and  bits  of  smoked  glass,  stationed 
themselves  at  their  windows,  and  gazed  with  earnest  eyes 
into  the  tower.  Others,  still  more  curious,  sent  their  little 


OUT  OF  TOWN.  235 

boys  to  climb  the  tall  trees  that  grew  beside  the  tower, 
where,  lodged  in  the  branches,  they  could  note  all  that 
passed ;  but  none  of  them,  I  am  happy  to  state,  saw  any 
thing  improper,  or  which  the  most  fastidious  maiden  would 
not  have  permitted  her  lover. 

"  At  length,  however,  the  neighbors  grew  quite  sleepy, 
and  one  by  one  they  put  out  the  lights  in  their  houses ;  and 
the  little  boys,  numb  and  chill,  slid  down  the  trees  and 
went  home,  and  soon  all  the  village  were  in  bed.  Then, 
when  everybody  was  asleep,  the  grand  personage  in  furs  — 
it  was  no  other  than  Santa  Glaus  himself/'  (here  Fanny 
clapped  her  hands,  and  Mary  shouted  with  glee,)  —  "  took 
little  Merry  by  the  hand,  dressed  in  her  yellow  gown,  which 
looked  like  gold,  and  assisted  her  down  the  winding  stairs, 
and  placed  her  safely  in  his  cushioned  sleigh,  amid  the 
costliest  furs.  Only  the  Man  in  the  Moon  looked  down  on 
them.  Monsieur  Horloge  held  his  hands  steadily  before 
his  face,  and  did  not  give  them  so  much  as  a  parting 
glance.  Mr.  L.  Rod  and  his  pretty  wife  —  lately  Miss 
Vane  —  were  dreaming,  one  of  the  wind,  and  the  other  of 
thunder-clouds.  The  young  clergyman  was  kneeling  at 
the  bedside  of  the  old  sexton,  who  was  just  breathing  his 
last ;  while  the  two  pigeons,  with  their  heads  folded  under 
their  wings,  were  resting  side  by  side. 

"  Little  Merry's  heart  beat  fast  as  the  sleigh  glided 
swiftly  away  from  the  foot  of  the  old  church-tower ;  but 
Santa  Glaus  drew  her  closely  to  his  side,  and,  whispering 
softly  in  her  ears,  declared  that  she,  and  she  alone,  should 
ever  be  his  bride. 

"  Then  he  loudly  exclaimed,  ere  they  vanished  from 
sight,  '  Little  folks,  peace  be  with  you  !  Good-night,  oh ! 
good- night.' 

"  And  here  closes,"  I  said,  rising  from  my  chair  and  tak 
ing  a  position  on  the  rug,  with  my  back  to  the  fire,  "  the 
second  part  of  our  Holiday  Nights'  Entertainments ;  and 
now  I  desire  to  say  a  few  words." 


236  OUT  OF  TOWN. 

"  Mr.  Gray,"  interrupted  my  wife,  "  pray  don't  destroy 
the  pleasant  impression  left  on  our  minds  through  your 
story,  by  getting  off  anything  prosaic  in  the  way  of  a 
speech.  I  can  always  tell,  when  you  assume  that  not  very 
polite  position  on  the  rug,  that  you  are  intending  to  de 
liver  something  very  dull  and  stupid." 

Miss  Floy,  too,  seemed  to  have  the  same  opinion  regard 
ing  the  affair  as  my  wife  ;  for  she,  while  Mrs.  Gray  was 
speaking,  without  giving  the  children  an  opportunity  to 
thank  me  and  say  good-night,  hurried  them  out  of  the 
room,  and  went  herself  along  with  them. 

Thereupon,  having  no  audience,  I  yielded  to  my  wife's 
entreaties,  and  forebore  to  make  the  learned  remarks  con 
cerning  the  festival  of  Christmas,  its  origin,  antiquity,  and 
the  manner  of  keeping  it  by  different  nations,  which  I  had 
proposed  to  myself  to  set  forth. 

As  I  passed  to  my  own  room  an  hour  or  two  later,  after 
having  seen  that  old  Santa  Claus  filled  the  children's  stock- 

O 

ings  in  an  appropriate  manner,  I  stopped  in  the  nursery, 
and  kissed  the  two  little  girls  asleep  in  their  bed,  and  the 
boy  asleep  in  his,  and  wished  them,  and  all  good  children 
everywhere,  a  merry  Christmas. 


OUT  OF  TOWN.  237 


CHAPTER  XXXVII. 

Christmas  Day.  —  Utopia.  —  Our  President.  —  Gold  vs.  Greenbacks. — In 
the  Toy-store.  —  Prayers.  —  Night.  —  Morning.  —  A  Pleasant  Check.  — 
Our  Bank. —  Breakfast.  — Off  to  Utopia.  — The  Balloon.  — "Tress."  — 
The  Dead  Babe.  —  Mamma.  — Carol.  —  The  Awakening. 

CHRISTMAS  Day  came  and  went,  and  the  children, 
who  had  enjoyed  themselves  exceedingly  in  exam 
ining  their  various  presents,  in  going  down  to  the 
Bronx  to  skate,  and  in  doing  much  snow-balling  and  slid 
ing  down-hill,  were  so  wearied  when  evening  came,  that 
they  failed  to  ask  me  to  continue  the  story  commenced  the 
night  before ;  but  the  following  night  they  were  wide  awake, 
and,  shortly  after  dinner,  before  I  had  finished  reading  the 
evening  papers,  gave  me  to  understand  that  they  were 
waiting  for  me  to  celebrate  another  Holiday  Evening's  En 
tertainment.  Thereupon,  putting  aside  the  evening  paper, 
I  began  as  follows  :  — 

MY    FAMILY   IN   UTOPIA. 

"  WHAT  nice  stories  you  tell,  papa,"  exclaimed  Fanny, 
as  soon  as  I  finished;  "how  I  love  to  sit  on  your  knee, 
and  listen  to  you.  Don't  you  think  they  are  beautiful, 
Mary  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  replied  Mary ;  "  but  I  think  I  like  Hans  Ander 
sen's  better.  His  are  much  more  funny ;  and  then,  you 
can  read  them  yourself;  and  his  book,  too,  is  full  of  pict 
ures.  Pa,  tell  another  one  ;  will  you  ?  " 

But  I  pointed  out  to  my  little  daughters  the  gas-lights 
shining  in  the  streets,  and  told  them  we  would  now  go  to 


238  OUT   OF  TOWN. 

Broadway,  and  make  our  Christmas  purchases.  So,  quickly 
they  wrapped  their  pretty  mantles  around  themselves,  and, 
each  placing  a  trusting  hand  in  mine,  we  descended  to 
the  street.  As  we  turned  into  the  noisy  thoroughfare  of 
Broadway,  I  nearly  upset  "  our  President,"  who,  with  his 
fur-caped  cloak  gathered  about  his  face,  rushed  blindly 
towards  me.  He  paused  a  moment ;  adjusted  his  hat, 
which  the  encounter  had  slightly  displaced  ;  peered  at  me 
a  moment  through  his  gold-bowed  spectacles ;  apologized 
for  his  part  of  the  accident ;  wished  my  little  ones  a 
"  Happy  New  Year,"  and  passed  on  his  solitary  way.  I  say 
solitary,  because  he  is  a  bachelor,  and  possesses  neither 
wife  nor  little  ones.  It  was  evident  to  me  that  he  failed 
to  recognize,  in  the  proud  father  with  the  two  little  girls,  a 
toiling  clerk  of  the  bank  in  which  he  held  the  highest 
rank.  He  was  rich  in  worldly  goods  ;  but,  poor  as  I  was,  I 
deemed  myself  wealthier,  in  the  possession  of  my  two  price 
less  jewels,  than  he  would  dare  dream  of  being. 

Somewhere  about  Houston  Street  we  stepped  into  a 
hosiery  establishment,  to  purchase  the  new  stockings.  It 
was  amusing  to  me  to  notice  the  airs  Miss  Mary  put  on 
while  making  a  selection.  These  were  too  coarse ;  those 
too  large ;  and  others,  again,  not  long  enough.  Fanny, 
on  the  contrary,  was  pleased  with  the  first  pair  shown 
her.  "  They  matched,"  she  said,  "  so  well  her  blue  dress 
and  hood." 

At  last  Mary  found  a  red  pair,  just  the  color  of  her 
cloak ;  and  so,  having  paid  for  them  out  of  my  slender 
purse,  we  passed  down  Broadway.  As  we  went  on  our  way, 
there  was  scarce  a  window  ablaze  with  light  before  which 
we  did  not  stop.  Had  my  purse  been  filled  with  gold  in 
stead  of  the  few  "  greenbacks  "  it  contained,  it  would  not 
have  bought  all  my  little  ones  desired.  Now  it  was  some 
thing  I  must  get  for  "dear  mamma;"  then  something  for 
myself;  while  Mary  must  needs  want  a  whole  window-ful 
at  once,  often  containing  articles  which  she  never  would 


OUT   OF  TOWN.  239 

have  known  what  to  do  with.  Fanny,  however,  was  more 
moderate  in  her  desires,  and  only  wished  for  particular 
articles.  I  noticed,  though,  that  she  always  selected  such 
as  were  the  most  costly,  while  Mary  wanted  everything, 
with  little  regard  either  to  quality  or  cost. 

When  we  reached  the  toy-store,  my  little  ones  were  half 
crazed  with  delight.  Such  wonderful  wax-dolls,  and  tea 
sets,  and  bureaus,  and  bedsteads,  and  hundreds  of  other 
things,  were,  surely,  never  before  seen.  I  managed  while 
they  were  both  engaged  in  examining  a  miniature  play-house, 
to  make  several  purchases,  unseen  by  them ;  and  placing 
the  dainty  packages  in  the  capacious  pockets  of  my  coat, 
we  turned  to  retrace  our  steps.  After  a  slight  halt  at  a 
confectioner's,  and  a  further  pause  at  a  book-store,  where,  at 
each  place,  I  secretly  added  to  my  hidden  hoard,  we  reached 
again  my  boarding-place.  To  be  sure,  my  purse  was  now 
very  light,  but  my  pockets  were  heavy,  and  my  children's 
hearts  were  full  of  happiness.  I  felt  pleased,  however, 
that  I  did  not  encounter  the  landlady,  on  my  way  up  the 
stairs.  The  sight  of  her  pale,  careworn  face  would  have 
sadly  discomforted  me.  It  would  have  reminded  me 
of  my  bankruptcy.  Though  such  thoughts  as  these  came 
across  my  mind,  they  were  quickly  put  to  flight,  when  I 
reached  my  room,  by  the  merry  laughter  of  my  precious 
ones. 

When  the  new  stockings  were  carefully  hung  up,  and 
I  had  arranged  a  bed  on  the  lounge  for  my  little  dar 
lings,  I  seated  them  on  my  knees,  and  told  tales  of  the 
old  years  past.  I  told  what  I  did,  when,  a  little  boy,  I 
used  to  hang  up  my  stocking,  and  believed  in  good  old 
Santa  Glaus. 

Mary  wanted  to  know  why  I  did  n't  hang  it  up  still ;  and 
Fanny  asked  whether  I  had  ceased  to  believe  in  Santa 
Glaus.  When  I  had  satisfied  them  on  these  points,  it  was 
time  to  go  to  bed.  So,  after  they  had  repeated  their 
prayers  —  prayers  their  mother  taught  them  —  and  had 


240  OUT   OF  TOWN. 

sung  a  little  hymn.  —  I  heard  the  echo  of  that  mother's 
voice  throughout  it,  —  they  kissed  me  a  good-night  kiss, 
and  a  few  moments  afterwards  were  nestled  snugly  in  their 
bed.  When  the  sand-man  —  who  always  goes  before 
Santa  Glaus  —  had  dropped  sand  upon  their  eyes,  and 
before  I  had  myself  gone  to  bed,  I  beheld  the  old  saint 
carefully  fill  their  stockings,  and  then,  directly  after,  I  my 
self  retired. 

But  1  never  shall  forget  —  not  if  I  live  to  be  very  old 
indeed  —  how  singularly  Santa  Glaus  was  attired.  He 
had  on  a  long  white  robe  —  perhaps  it  was  trimmed  with 
fur  —  that  almost  reached  the  floor ;  a  pair  of  blue  velvet 
slippers,  embroidered  with  gold  braid,  were  on  his  feet ; 
while  his  head  was  adorned  with  a  red  silk  cap,  orna 
mented  by  a  gilt  tassel.  When  he  had  performed  his  allot 
ted  work,  he  kissed  my  little  girls,  put  out  the  gas,  and  that 
was  the  last  I  saw  of  him  for  that  night. 

With  the  first  rays  of  the  morning  of  the  new  year,  I 
was  aroused  by  soft  whispering ;  and  then  I  heard  the 
patter  of  bare  feet  on  the  chamber  floor,  as  my  little  girls 
hastened  to  their  stockings.  I  remained  very  quiet ;  for  it 
was  pleasant  to  hear  their  expressions  of  delight  and  as 
tonishment  as  they  drew  forth  from  their  stockings  the 
various  articles  they  contained. 

"  See,"  exclaimed  Mary  ;  "  here  is  the  very  wax-doll  that 
we  saw  at  the  toy-store.  I  know  it,"  she  continued,  "  by 
its  pink  dress  and  blue  eyes.  Is  n't  it  beautiful  ?  " 

"  And  here,"  shouted  Fanny,  "  is  the  work-box  we  ad 
mired  so  much.  Don't  you  remember  the  little  round 
piece  of  looking-glass  in  the  centre  of  the  cover  ?  How 
kind  in  Santa  Glaus  to  get  us  exactly  what  we  wished  for ! 
is  n't  it,  Mary  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  answered  Mary,  "  if  it  were  really  Santa  Glaus 
who  gave  them  to  us ;  but  don't  you  believe,  Fan.,  that, 
after  all,  it  was  papa  ?  " 

Fanny  had  never  considered  the  matter ;  it  was  some- 


OUT  OF   TOWN.  241 

thing  to  think  about ;  so  she  simply  replied,  she  did  n't 
know ;  she  was  evidently  very  much  perplexed  and  dis 
turbed  in  her  mind  by  this  new  suggestion  of  Mary's ;  so 
a  silence  ensued,  and  during  its  continuance  I  again  fell 
asleep. 

When  I  awoke,  the  sun  was  shining  into  my  room,  the 
children  were  dressed,  and  had  arranged  on  the  centre- 
table  their  various  gifts,  for  my  inspection.  It  was  delight 
ful  for  me  to  hear  their  many  expressions  of  pleasure,  as 
they  showed  me  their  new  treasures.  They  were  in  haste, 
too,  to  get  home,  so  that  mamma  could  share  in  their  pleas 
ure.  There  was  enough  left  in  my  purse,  I  found,  to  treat 
them  to  a  simple  breakfast,  and  pay  for  our  conveyance 
to  my  castle  in  Spain,  from  whence  the  balloon  started. 
From  there  to  Utopia  no  money  is  required.  The  balloon 
is,  with  one  exception,  free  for  all  who  choose  to  travel  in 
it.  The  exception  is  this :  no  man  who  has  much  money 
in  his  pocket  is  permitted  therein.  In  fact,  the  less  wealth 
a  man  has,  the  better  the  accommodations  that  are  given 
him.  I  felt  certain  that  that  morning  I  should  be  received 
with  much  honor  and  a  cordial  welcome,  and  would  be  shown 
to  a  very  distinguished  place.  This  thought  made  me  feel 
very  proud,  but,  as  I  descended  the  staircase,  my  pride  was 
doomed  to  a  sad  fall.  I  regretted  it  more  than  I  rejoiced 
over  the  receipt  of  that  which  caused  it.  Just  as  I  was 
going  down  the  third  flight  of  stairs,  I  encountered  Old 
Tom,  the  porter  of  "  our  bank,"  coming  up.  He  held  a 
letter  in  his  hand,  addressed  to  me.  My  hand,  I  re 
marked,  trembled  almost  as  much  as  did  his,  at  the  mo 
ment  I  took  the  letter.  I  feared  that  I  had  run  my  course 
as  a  bank  clerk,  and  that  the  letter  contained  my  dismissal. 
I  was  afraid  that,  somehow,  my  literary  labors  had  reached 
the  ears  of  the  directors,  and  I  knew  what  such  knowledge 
would  result  in.  It  was,  therefore,  with  a  somewhat  quick 
ened  pulse  that  I  tore  open  the  envelop,  and  unfolded  the 
sheet  within,  when,  to  my  astonishment,  there  appeared, 
16 


242  OUT  OF   TOWN. 

with  the  bold  signature  of  the  president  at  the  bottom  of 
it,  a  check  on  the  bank  for  one  hundred  dollars ;  accom 
panying  which  was  a  communication,  to  the  effect  that,  in 
consideration  of  the  strict  attention  I  had  given,  and  the 
correct  manner  I  had  performed,  for  many  years,  that  par 
ticular  part  of  the  business  of  the  bank  which  it  was  my 
duty  to  look  to,  the  directors  had,  at  a  late  meeting  of  the 
board,  unanimously  agreed  to  increase  my  salary,  and,  at 
the  same  time,  had  voted  me  one  hundred  dollars  for  a 
New  Year  gift. 

When  I  had  fully  assured  myself  that  this  good  luck 
had  really  befallen  me,  I  emptied  what  little  money  my 
purse  held  into  Old  Tom's  open  palm,  and  at  the  same  time 
gave  him  to  understand  that  I  considered  the  directors  of 
"  our  bank  "  had  performed  a  very  handsome  act.  When 
I  told  my  little  ones,  who  had  stood  by  me  all  the  time, 
what  had  befallen  me,  they  evinced  their  joy  in  a  very 
simple  yet  happy  manner ;  they  remarked  that  such  news 
would  please  their  dear  mamma,  and  both  wished  to  be  the 
first  to  inform  her  of  it. 

I  could  not  resist  stepping  into  the  breakfast-room,  as  I 
passed  along,  to  assure  my  good  landlady  that  her  little 
bill  would  be  paid  on  the  morrow.  Her  countenance 
brightened  as  I  spoke,  and  a  smile  hovered  about  her  pale 
face,  as  she  replied  that  it  would  be  of  great  assistance  to 
her.  She  had  feared,  she  added,  from  not  having  seen  me  at 
supper  the  night  previous,  that,  perhaps,  I  would  not  be  able 
to  pay  her.  I  suspected,  from  this  remark,  that  she  had 
been  a  boarding-house  keeper  many  years.  It  betrayed 
experience  in  such  matters  ;  her  conclusions  were  logical 
ones ;  she  reasoned  from  the  effect  back  to  the  cause. 

Then,  wishing  the  quiet,  but  somewhat  shrewd,  woman 
a  merry  Christmas,  I  rejoined  my  little  ones,  and,  giving 
each  of  them  a  hand,  proceeded  down  Broadway  to  a  quiet 
saloon  where  we  partook  of  a  Christmas  breakfast,  made 
merry  to  me  by  the  joyous  prattle  of  my  children. 


OUT  OF  TOWN.  243 

Where  we  started  from,  or  how  we  journeyed  going  to 
my  castle  in  Spain,  I  have  no  remembrance.  My  impres 
sion,  however,  is,  that  we  went  in  a  one-horse  gig, — 
though  the  horse  may  have  been  a  pony,  —  for  the  girls,  I 
think,  drove  him  all  the  way.  Had  I  been  alone,  I  should 
doubtless  have  borrowed  the  horse  which  General  Wash 
ington  rides  daily  in  Union  Square.  Perhaps  some  one 
can  tell  me  the  course  we  took.  I  know  we  passed  several 
objects  and  places  of  note,  —  the  Castle  of  Indolence, 
the  Village  of  Dreamland,  Reverie  Lake,  the  Island  of 
the  Seven  Cities,  the  Valley  of  Poppies,  the  Mansion  of 
Happiness,  the  Vale  of  Arcadie,  and  El  Dorado.  For 
tunately,  there  was  a  balloon  just  on  the  eve  of  starting  for 
Utopia  when  we  reached  my  castle  in  Spain.  Directly, 
therefore,  taking  our  places  in  it,  we  found  ourselves,  in  an 
incredibly  short  space  of  time,  — as  it  seemed  to  us,  for  we 
slept  most  of  the  way,  —  hovering  above  Utopia.  There  it 
lay,  in  the  soft  sunshine  and  roseate  light,  nestled  between 
green  hill-sides,  —  it  is  always  summer  time  in  Utopia,  —  a 
picture  of  loveliness.  There  were  to  be  seen  woodbine- 
covered  cottages,  and  ivy-clad  towers,  and  white,  tapering 
spires,  and  mirror-like  lakes,  and  roaring  brooks,  and  rustic 
bridges,  and  a  May-pole,  and  gayly  robed  children  dancing 
round  it.  As  we  drew  nearer,  sounds  of  music  and  sing 
ing  reached  our  ears.  We  could  discern  the  features  of 

O 

friends  and  neighbors  ;  and,  by-and-by,  Fanny  exclaimed, 
"  See,  papa  !  see  !  there  's  mamma  crossing  the  green  by 
the  May-pole  ;  she  has  recognized  and  is  coming  to  meet  us." 
And  Mary  leaned  far  over  the  side  of  the  balloon,  and 
waved  her  silken  sash  —  and  mamma  saw  it,  and,  in  turn, 
waved  her  handkerchief  and  wafted  kisses  to  us  with  her 
hand.  A  few  minutes  more,  and  we  stepped  from  the  aerial 
car,  and  were  welcomed  with  kindly  greetings  and  cheerful 
words  by  those  around  us.  Something  more  than  these, 
however,  were  mine,  when  I  clasped  my  wife's  hand ;  for 
-in  Utopia  'ti?  not  considered  either  indelicate  or  out  of 


244  OUT  OF  TOWN. 

place  to  kiss  one's  wife,  when  meeting  after  a  long  absence, 
even  though  you  be  not  sheltered  beneath  the  roof-tree. 
So,  then,  I  kissed  my  wife,  and  she  kissed  me.  The  children, 
too,  were  kissed  ;  and  then,  with  our  little  packages  of  gifts 
for  mamma  in  our  hands,  we  hastened  home.  Home  !  't  is  a 
goodly  word  to  speak.  It  does  not  mean  hotel  or  hospital, 
boarding-place  or  restaurant,  where  you  can  simply  eat, 
drink,  and  sleep  —  where  you  can  keep  your  extra  ward 
robe,  and  spend  your  rainy  Sundays  ;  but  it  means  the 
spot  you  were  born  in  —  the  house  of  your  childhood  — 
the  place  which  contains  your  wife  and  all  most  dear  to 
you,  and  near  to  which,  in  the  dim  and  far  off  future,  you 
pray  that  your  grave  may  be.  All  this,  and  nothing 
less,  is  home  ;  and  to  such  a  home  we  and  our  children 
went. 

Of  course,  there  were  many  things  which  had  occurred  in 
the  months  past  that  my  wife  and  children  found  to  tell 
me.  Changes  had  taken  place  in  our  little  home,  and 
changes  had  occurred  outside  the  garden  palings.  The 
cat  that  had  been  ours  from  kittenhood,  and  portraits  of 
which  the  little  ones  had  worked,  with  various-colored 
worsteds,  on  magnificent  samplers,  was  dead.  The  ca 
naries,  however,  had  thrived  wonderfully,  and  raised  two 
full  broods  of  young  since  St.  Valentine's  Day.  And  old 
"  Tress,"  the  faithful  Newfoundland  dog,  that  had  sum 
mered  on  the  front-door  mat  for  many  a  year,  had  grown 
lame  and  blind,  and  scarcely  recognized  the  hand  which 
fed  him. 

Then,  too,  there  had  been  marriages  and  deaths,  —  for 
people  marry  and  die  even  in  Utopia.  My  neighbors  had 
lost  their  little  boy,  just  the  age,  when  he  died,  of  an  angel- 
child  of  ours  ;  and,  as  my  wife  told  me  of  his  death,  the 
tears  traced  each  other  down  her  cheeks,  and  I  knew  she 
was  thinking  of  our  blessed  boy.  Years  have  gone  by 
since  we  laid  him  in  his  little  grave,  and  Mary  and  Fanny 
have  both  been  given  us  since  then;  but  neither,  nor 


OUT  OF   TOWN.  245 

both  of  them,  can  ever  fill  the  void  in  his  mother's  heart 
which  the  death  of  our  precious  boy  caused.  When  she 
rocked  the  other  children  in  his  cradle,  she  tried  to  make 
herself  believe  that  it  was  he  who  lay  therein.  Months 
after  his  death,  when  the  grass  was  green  on  his  little 
£rave,  she  accidentally  discovered  behind  the  lounge,  in 
the  closed  and  deserted  nursery,  a  small  red  and  white 
worsted  sock,  which  the  baby,  some  day,  in  playing,  had 
kicked  from  his  tiny  foot,  and  which  had  there  fallen  and 
been  forgotten.  My  loved  one  nearly  broke  her  heart 
afresh,  weeping  over  that  bit  of  colored  worsted. 

And  then,  after  a  short  pause,  my  wife  told  me  of 
another  neighbor,  whose  daughter,  —  a  fair,  blue-eyed  girl, 
—  on  Christmas  Eve,  had  become  a  bride,  and  left  her 
mother's  hearth  and  home  for  a  hearth  and  home  of  her 
own.  And  straightway  my  mind  went  back  to  the  day, 
years  and  years  agone,  when  I  led  my  bride  from  the  shel 
ter  of  her  father's  house  to  the  low-roofed  cottage  where 
I  dwelt.  And,  looking  at  her,  the  bride,  the  wife,  the 
mother,  I  asked  myself  if  she  had  been  happier  in  her 
wedded  life  than  she  would  have  been  had  I  not  sought 

O 

her  hand  ?  She  seemed  to  read  my  thoughts  ;  for,  raising 
her  dark  eyes  to  me,  she  smiled  one  of  her  old  sweet 
smiles,  and  placing  her  hand  in  mind,  with  the  other  point 
ing  to  our  little  ones,  she  said :  "  Children  make  a  woman's 
life  complete ;  the  bride  is  happy,  but  the  mother  happiest 
of  all."  Then,  taking  them  by  the  hand  and  laughing, 
often  looking  back  and  nodding  in  a  merry  way,  she  led 
them  from  the  room  and  me. 

When  they  had  gone,  a  cloud  seemed  to  have  swept 
across  the  sun's  disk ;  shadows  came  out  into  the  room 
where  before  the  sunshine  lay,  and  wild,  sharp  pains  shot 
through  my  heart  and  brain.  I  thought,  what  if  she  and 
they  have  passed  from  my  sight  forever  !  I  tried  to  drive 
away  the  idea  as  foolish  ;  but  it  would  not  be  driven  away. 
I  tried  to  whistle  it  down  with  an  air  from  "  L'Elisir 


246  OUT  OF  TOWN. 

d"Amore,"  but  'twould  not  be  whistled  down.  At  last  I 
took  a  prime  Havana,  and,  lighting  it,  essayed  to  smoke 
it  out.  This  had  the  desired  effect,  and  quickly  soothed 
me  to  a  happy  mood.  Seating  myself,  then,  in  my  easy 
chair,  I  indulged  in  a  little  reverie  :  "  Of  a  certainty,"  I 
thought.  "  my  lines  have  fallen  to  me  in  pleasant  places." 
I,  though  a  simple  bank  clerk,  am  blessed  with  a  fair  and 
loving  wife,  and  two  beauteous  and  dutiful  children.  The 
latter  are  to  me  as  milestones  placed  in  the  journey  of  life : 
I  have  but  to  look  at  them,  as  year  by  year  they  advance  ' 
towards  womanhood,  to  perceive  how  swiftly  I  am  moving 
on  through  life ;  while  the  former,  like  the  genial  sun, 
sheds  a  light  on  my  path,  and  makes  easy  to  walk  what 
would  otherwise  be  a  dark  and  rugged  way.  True,  it  is 
seldom  that  we  meet ;  often  months  go  by  without  our 
seeing  each  other ;  but  then  I  enjoy  with  greater  zest,  I 
suppose,  their  society,  than  I  otherwise  should.  How  much 
better  it  is,  too,  for  them  to  be  here  in  Utopia,  with  its 
delightful  climate  and  sunny  skies,  than  in  the  unhealthy 
city,  with  its  noise  and  dust,  where  I  pass  my  clays.  They 
live  in  a  continual  sunshine :  no  clouds  gather  over  their 
blue  sky ;  no  harsh  November  winds  drive  the  dry  leaves 
about  the  garden  walks ;  nor  do  the  frosts  and  snows  of 
January  come  to  chill  the  currents  in  their  veins.  Ah  ! 
this  Utopia  is  a  delicious  spot ;  but,  then,  —  quien  sabe  ?  — 
perhaps  'tis  just  as  well  for  me  not  to  be  here  alway.  I 
live,  I  know,  a  very  stupid  life  in  Gotham ;  but  it  has  its 
advantages.  There  are  there  some  bits  of  sunshine.  I 

O 

find  them  when  I  go  to  the  opera ;  I  basked  in  them  while 
Jenny  Lind  was  there  ;  I  mellowed  in  them,  like  a  peach, 
when  Grisi  cast  a  tuneful  glory  round ;  and  lately,  while 
listening  to  Thalberg's  magic  touch,  a  genial  glow  per 
vaded  my  frame,  and  there  was  summer  in  my  heart.  'T  is 
something,  too,  —  not  much,  perhaps,  but  something,  — 
to  go  to  the  anniversary  dinners  given  by  the  various  soci 
eties,  and  hear  the  toasts  and  speeches.  I  certainly  do 


OUT  OF  TOWN  247 

miss,  however,  on  my  return  to  my  solitary  quarters,  the 
voice  of  welcome  from  my  wife ;  but  then,  too,  there  is  no 
one  to  ask  me  where  I  have  been,  or  what  kept  me  out  so 
late.  Oh,  I  am  convinced  that  my  "  lines  have  fallen  to 
me  in  pleasant  places." 

At  this  moment  the  music  of  a  sweet  song  reached  my 
ears.  It  was  a  carol  for  the  New  Year,  sung  by  my  wife 
and  daughters  in  the  adjoining  room.  'T  was  a  simple 
melody,  —  an  old,  old  song,  —  one  with  which  mothers, 
for  generations  back,  had  hushed  their  babes  to  sleep ;  yet 
it  brought  the  tears  to  my  eyes,  and  wakened  memories 
which  had  lain  dormant  in  my  bosom,  hidden  beneath 
cares,  and  jealousies,  and  disappointed  hopes,  and  broken 
resolutions,  and  unfulfilled  acts,  since  I  sat  at  my  mother's 
feet,  a  child  in  mind  and  years.  What,  to  me,  was  the 
"  Echo  Song"  of  Jenny  Lind,  or  the  "  Casta  Diva  "  of  Grisi, 
compared  with  this  humble  melody  ?  Unconsciously,  my 
voice  united  with  my  loved  ones  in  that  childlike  song,  and 
I  was  on  the  point  of  joining  the  singers,  when  a  hand  was 
laid  on  my  arm,  and  a  voice  exclaimed :  "  Mister  Gray,  you 
most  got  dem  figgers  added  up,  so  dat  dis  ole  darkey  can 
go  long  home  to  him  wife  Charity  ?  She  bin  'spectin'  me 
now  dis  night  more'n  one  hour.  She  and  me  got  'siderable 
marketin'  to  do  for  de-morrow,  and  I  sartinly  'spect  I  can't 
go  from  dis  bank  till  I'se  locked  all  de  doors." 

"  Where,"  said  I,  turning  round  on  my  seat,  and  seizing 
hold  of  Old  Tom,  — "  where  is  Mrs.  Gray  and  my  children  ?  " 

"  Lor  bless  me,  Mister  Gray,"  shouted  Thomas,  "  you  be 
crazy  for  sartin  !  you  got  no  Missus  Gray,  and  no  children, 
conskently  you  must  be  berry  crazy  for  to  talk  dis  fashion. 
I  guess  you  bin  sleep  and  dreaming,  sir." 

"  Thomas,"  I  asked,  now  fully  awake,  —  "  Thomas,  what 
time  is  it  ?  " 

"  Just  'zactly  seven  o'clock  P.  M.  by  de  Trinity  Church, 
tho'  my  'ronometer,"  answered  Tom,  "  make  it  ten  minute 
more." 

I  started  up  from  my  desk,  put  my  books  carefully  away, 


248  OUT  OF  TOWN. 

placed  what  little  money  I  possessed  in  my  pocket,  remem 
bering,  as  I  did  so,  that  my  landlady  was  paid  a  month  in 
advance  only  the  week  before,  and  that  sundry  other  little 
bills  were  settled ;  and,  giving  Tom  a  quarter,  I  drew  on 
my  gloves,  and  the  next  moment  was  walking  briskly  to 
wards  Broadway. 

That  evening  a  cosey,  bachelor  party  assembled  in  my 
rooms  ;  a  few  games  of  whist  were  played  ;  a  few  bowls  of 
punch  were  brewed ;  and,  though  wifeless  and  childless, 
yet,  when  I  came  to  lay  my  head  on  my  solitary  pillow,  I 
could  not  but  own  that  "  my  lines  had  fallen  to  me  in 
pleasant  places." 

"  My  dear,"  exclaimed  my  wife,  the  moment  I  finished 
reading  the  above,  "  why  will  you  forever  be  talking  about 
punches  in  your  writings,  when,  if  you  were  to  tell  the 
truth,  you  would  say  that  punches,  either  hot  or  cold,  sel 
dom  are  to  be  found  on  our  mahogany  ?  " 

"  Well,"  I  replied,  "  if  you  fail  to  observe  them,  I  shall 
not  call  your  attention  to  their  presence  ;  but  the  fact  is, 
that  most  of  these  punches  are  concocted  when  you  have 
retired  from  the  scene  of  your  daily  labors,  and  are  quietly 
enjoying  that  repose  which  arises  from  possessing  a  clear 
conscience.  And  now,  my  dear,  as  I  know  that  you  and 
Miss  Floy  and  the  children  must  be  wearied  and  sleepy,  I 
would  advise  you  and  them  to  retire  to  your  virtuous 
couches,  while  I  remain  up  to  attend  to  balancing  the 
year's  accounts." 

Miss  Floy  hereupon  said  that  she  feared  I  would  not  be 
able  to  balance  myself  when  I  went  to  bed,  if  they  should, 
thus  early  in  the  evening,  leave  me  to  my  own  devices. 

My  wife  and  little  ones  also  protested  against  deserting 
the  library  thus  early  in  the  evening  ;  and  so,  to  keep 
them  awake,  I  consented  to  engage  in  a  game  of  blind- 
man's-buff,  which  we  pursued,  much  to  the  endangerment 
of  our  several  heads  and  the  damage  of  sundry  pieces  of 
furniture. 


OUT  OF  TOWN.  249 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII. 

Around  the  Library  Lamp.  —  Utopia  again.  —  Ten  Years  ago.  —  Louise. 
Days  of  my  Boyhood.  —  The  old,  old  Story.  —  "A  Tress  of  Golden 
Hair."  —  Foolish  Memories.  —  "  Our  Florence."  —  The  Old  Chateau.  — 
The  good  Old  Man.  —  "  Beyond."  —  The  Churchyard.  —  Ebb  and  Flow. 
"  Marriage-bells."  —A  little  Discourse. 

sooner  was  the  evening  lamp  lighted  in  the 
library  the  following  night,  than  the  little  folks 
besieged  me  with  entreaties  to  finish  the  story  of 
my  family  in  Utopia,  and  as  their  mother  and  Miss  Floy 
joined  them  in  asking  me,  I  put  my  newspaper  aside,  and, 
lighting  my  cigar,  prepared  to  continue  it. 

Miss  Em.  whispered  to  me  as  I  was  waiting  for  them 
all  to  get  properly  seated  and  quiet,  before  commencing, 
that  she  hoped  it  would  end  well,  as  she  very  much  disliked 
to  have  a  story  end  badly. 

I  promised  her  that  the  end  should  be  satisfactory,  and 
if  only  Miss  Floy  wotild  stop  rustling  her  silks  in  the 
frightful  way  she  was  then  doing,  and  would  sit  quietly  in 
her  chair,  I  would  commence. 

Miss  Floy  evidently  overheard  me,  for  she  immediately 
rustled  her  dress  still  more,  and  moved  her  chair  to  the 
opposite  side  of  the  room  ;  then,  as  if  perfectly  satisfied 
with  having  sufficiently  annoyed  me,  she  said,  "  Now,  Mr. 
Gray,  that  we  are  ready,  why  don't  you  begin  ?  " 

"  Yes,  my  dear,  begin,"  cried  my  wife. 

And  "  Begin,"  echoed  each  of  the  children. 

And  as  I  could  do  nothing  else,  I  proceeded  as  follows : 

More  than  a  year,  my  little  ones,  is  supposed  to  have 
elapsed  since  I  last  visited  my  precious  family  in  Utopia. 


250  OUT   OF   TOWN. 

My  duties  as  a  bank  clerk  in  Wall  Street  have  been  so 
arduous  during  the  past  season  that  I  have  had  scarcely  a 
day  in  the  whole  period  which  I  could  call  mine  own.  Once, 
during  the  month  of  June,  on  the  anniversary  of  my  mar 
riage,  I  was  on  the  point  of  starting  for  Utopia,  and  had 
even  placed  in  my  hat  a  clean  collar  to  take  with  me,  and 
purchased  a  pair  of  white  kid  gloves,  and  silk  stockings, 
striped  with  blue,  for  the  same  purpose,  when  I  was  de 
barred  from  going  by  being  subpoenaed  as  a  witness  in  an 
important  lawsuit,  wherein  our  bank  was  the  defendant. 
Had  it  not  been  for  this,  I  should  have  visited  my  family 
the  fifteenth  day  of  last  June.  Ten  years  ago,  from  this 
very  date,  I  married  my  sweet  wife,  the  mother  of  my  chil 
dren.  I  sometimes  doubt  whether  so  many  years  have 
elapsed  since  that  happy  event,  fraught  with  numberless 
blessings,  transpired.  It  is  only  when  I  look  on  my  two 
children,  Mary  and  Fanny,  and  mark  how  rapidly  they  are 
approaching  womanhod,  (Mary,  the  elder  of  the  two,  can 
but  just  pass  under  her  mother's  arm,  when  raised,  without 
disturbing  the  smooth  and  evenly  parted  hair,  while  Fanny's 
flaxen  curls  reach  that  mother's  waist,)  that  I  fully  realize 
the  flight  of  time. 

Dwelling,  as  I  do,  apart  from  my  family,  and  months 
often  elapsing  without  my  beholding  them,  doubts  some 
times  arise  in  my  mind,  whether,  after  all,  I  am  really  a 
husband  and  father ;  or,  if  it  be  not  simply  a  dream,  —  well 
defined,  indeed,  and  like  reality ;  but  still  only  a  dream, 
a  very  myth.  At  such  times  I  have  recourse  to  the  old 
family  Bible,  which,  for  safety,  I  keep  at  the  bottom  of  an 
oaken  chest  that  one  of  my  sailor  progenitors  —  a  very  sea- 
king  he  was,  too,  hailing  from  the  island  of  Nantucket  — 
carried  with  him  during  many  voyages  around  the  world, 
and  turning  to  the  record  of  births,  marriages,  and  deaths, 
I  read  there,  in  my  proper  handwriting,  the  date  of  my 
own  marriage,  and  likewise  the  record  of  the  birth  of  each 
of  my  three  children,  and  also  of  the  death  of  the  eldest 


OUT  OF   TOWN.  251 

born.  Even  this  evidence  fails  to  satisfy  me  altogether, 
and  I  am  disposed  to  question  my  senses,  and  ask  of 
myself  whether  there  be  not  an  error  in  the  dates,  and  if 
there  did  not  once  exist  another  than  myself  who  bore 
the  name  I  bear,  of  whose  marriage  and  children  I  am 
reading. 

Of  course,  too,  at  such  times  I  fall  to  speculating  as  to 
who  I  really  am,  and  wondering  whether  or  not  Louise, 
my  early  love,  —  who  died  years  on  years  ago,  and  lies 
buried  far  away  in  a  southern  clime,  in  an  old  churchyard, 
under  a  spreading  palm,  which  is  ever  green,  as  is  my 
memory  of  her,  both  summer  and  winter  ;  and  whose  grave 
is  marked  by  a  marble  slab,  on  which  is  carved,  in  raised 
letters,  simply  her  name  and  the  number  of  years  (eigh 
teen)  she  dwelt  on  earth,  —  be  not,  after  all,  my  wife ;  and 
whether  we  do  not  live  together  in  the  cottage,  down  in 
the  Valley,  where  once  we  hoped  to  dwell,  about  the  porch 
of  which  trailing  vines,  and  roses,  and  honeysuckles  cluster, 
and  where  wild  bees  hum  all  the  summer  through,  and 
robins  and  orioles  sing ;  and  whether  there  be  not  two 
brave  and  sturdy  boys  —  the  comfort  and  pride  of  their 
mother,  and  the  pride  and  comfort  of  their  father  —  who 
are  our  sons  ;  and  whether,  moreover,  my  own  surname  be 
not  the  same  that  she,  the  vanished  hope  of  my  early  man 
hood,  bore,  ere  she  became  an  angel  among  angels. 

But  such  fancies  as  these  do  not  often  come  to  perplex 
me  ;  they  arise  only  when  I,  in  a  dreamy  mood,  am  seated 
alone  in  my  own  apartment,  in  the  fourth  story  of  our 
boarding-house,  on  summer  nights,  listening  to  the  pleas 
ant  rustle  of  the  leaves  on  the  trees  just  outside  my 
window,  and  watching  the  white-winged  clouds  that,  like 
fairy  ships,  float  in  the  quiet  moonlight.  Then  it  is  that  I, 
on  these  sail!  ess  and  oarless  vessels,  fantastic  and  ever- 
changing  in  their  shapes,  having  no  chart  or  map  by  which 
to  sail,  possessing  no  compass  or  rudder  with  which  to 
guide  their  course,  and  bound  to  no  known  port,  go  back 


252  OUT  OF   TOWN. 

over  oceans  of  departed  years,  and  rounding  capes  of 
half-sunken  memories,  enter,  through  narrow  channels  of 
thought,  havens  of  blessed  rest;  and  there,  in  these 
olden  resting-places,  do  I  find  my  Louise,  and,  sitting  be 
side  her  as  of  yore,  clasping  her  hand,  I  listen  to  words 
such  as  no  earthly  voice  can  utter. 

Then  the  days  come  back  of  my  boyhood ;  then,  too,  the 
days  return  to  her  girlhood,  and  again  we  seem  to 
wander  in  the  woods  together ;  we  gather  wild  flowers  on 
the  hill-sides  and  on  the  borders  of  the  running  brooks  ; 

O 

we  search  for  strawberries  along  the  edges  of  the  woods, 
while  I  cavalierly  fill  her  basket  in  preference  to  my  own, 
and  receive  a  smile  for  my  reward.  I  help  her  to  cross 
the  stream,  laying  down  stepping-stones  for  her  to  pass  it 
without  soiling  the  soles  of  her  little  shoes,  and  still 
my  guerdon  is  a  smile.  I  assist  her  to  scale  rail-fences, 
moss-grown  and  decayed,  and  to  scramble  through  thickets 
of  tall  underbrush,  dangerous  with  sharp  thorns  and  prickly 
briers,  and  to  step  carefully  over  beds  of  tangled  grass  and 
waving  fern,  made  fearful  through  truant  school-boys' 
stories  of  poisonous  snakes  therein  encountered,  and  my 
only  guerdon  still  remains  a  smile.  But,  by-and-by,  seated 
on  a  gray  rock  beneath  a  leafy  elm,  I  tell  her  tales  which 
smack  of  the  marvellous,  and  are  redolent  of  fairies  and 
such  ilk ;  and,  little  by  little,  I  draw  nearer  to  her  side,  and 
let  my  arm  slide  softly  round  her  yielding  waist,  and,  clasp 
ing  her  little  hands  in  mine,  then  and  there  I  tell  her,  in  a 
boyish  fashion,  shamefaced  and  stammering,  how  much  I 
love  her ;  and  she,  the  while  blushing  as  rosy  as  the  berries 
in  her  basket,  pouts  her  red  lips  and  taps  the  green  turf 
with  her  dainty  feet,  until  at  last,  half  coaxed  by  me,  half 
of  her  own  accord,  she  turns  her  peach-bloomed  cheek 
for  me  to  kiss. 

From  that  same  hour,  eight  years,  through  summers  and 
through  winters,  in  sun  and  in  storm,  was  she  the  sunshine 
of  my  days,  the  starlight  of  my  nights,  till,  passing  hence 


OUT   OF  TOWN.  253 

through  doors  that  only  open  outward,  she  became  the  bow 
of  promise  to  my  future  life. 

I  have  a  tress  of  golden  hair,  — 

I  keep  it  hidden  in  a  book ; 
And  this  in  turn  is  hidden  where 

No  eye  but  mine  may  on  it  look. 

It  ne'er  belonged  to  my  sweet  wife, 

Her  raven  curls  knew  not  its  birth  ; 
Nor  to  the  blessings  of  my  life, 

The  household  jewels  around  my  hearth. 

But  down  a  girlish  neck  it  fell, 

My  sainted  love's  of  former  years, 
And  never  has  it  lost  the  spell 

Of  calling  forth  my  holiest  tears. 

I  sometimes  leave  my  precious  ones, 

And  go  where  orange-flowers  bloom; 
Amidst  the  warmth  of  southern  suns, 

To  muse  beside  my  darling's  tomb. 

Long  years  have  flown  since  there  I  laid 

Her  body  softly  down  to  rest, 
And  turning  from  that  grave  new  made, 

Left  therein  all  1  loved  the  best. 

But  time  has  healed  the  wound  I  thought 

Could  never  during  life  be  healed, 
And  seldom  is  a  lifetime  fraught 

With  greater  joys  than  mine  doth  yield. 

Yet  oft  I  seek  to  count  the  days 

That  must  elapse  before  we  meet, 
Ere  I  may  tread  the  milk-white  ways 

Which  she   has  walked  with  shining  feet. 

But  away  with  these  foolish  memories  that,  in  spite  of 
my  manhood,  in  spite  of  my  present  happiness,  come  to 
dim  my  eyes  with  tears,  and  fill  my  heart  with  thoughts 
of  bitterness.  Let  them  vanish  and  return  no  more,  even 


254  OUT  OF   TOWN. 

as  her  form  has  vanished  from  my  sight,  —  her  footprints 
from  the  green  turf  which  once  she  trod.  Let  other 

O 

memories  arise.  The  memory  of  the  day  when  I  led  my 
sweet-voiced  wife,  a  young  and  blooming  bride,  out  from 
her  father's  house.  Ten  years  have  passed  since  then  — 
ten  years  with,  here  and  there,  in  the  otherwise  bright 
woof  of  happiness,  a  grief  heavy  with  tears.  Sickness  and 
death  have  caused  our  tears  to  flow.  Our  boy  —  the  only 
boy  we  had  —  sickened  and  died.  Our  second  child,  with 
fever  burning  in  her  heart  and  brain,  lay  tossing  long 
weeks  upon  her  little  cot,  hovering  'twixt  life  and  death, 
while  every  moan  and  sob  she  uttered  went  like  a  sharp 
ened  arrow  to  our  very  souls  ;  but,  God  be  praised !  a 
mother's  prayer  was  heard,  and  Azrael's  hand  was  stayed. 
Then  it  was  that  I,  my  heart  moved  by  hopes  and  fears 
and  joys,  wrote,  — 

OUR  FLORENCE. 

WE  'VE  a  tiny,  helpless,  wailing  one,   whose  age   by   weeks   we 

number, 

A  blue-eyed  babe,  a  little  girl,  whose  presence  fills  our  life 
With  such  happiness  and  pain  as  only  parents'  hearts  encumber, 

For  we  know  that  she  has  entered  a  world  of  sin  and  strife  ; 
Where  thorns  spring  up  with  flowers,  and  where  shadows  chase 

the  light, 
Where  for  every  day  of  summer  comes  a  chilly  winter  night. 

But  with  true  and  earnest  thankfulness,  her  mother  and  myself 
From  the  good  and  gracious  Giver  receive  the  precious  one, 

And  to  our  bosoms  tenderly  we  clasp  the  dainty  elf, 

And   think  't  were  hard  to  give  her  up  and  say,  "  Thy  will  bo 
done." 

For  of  our  love  the  baby  has  so  great  and  ricli  a  share 

That  it  seems  to  us  she  ever  had  our  watchfulness  and  care. 

Oh,  'tis  sweet  to  watch  our  baby  and  perceive  how,  day  by  day, 
The  light  breaks  through  the  darkness  of  her  mind  so  infantile, 

And  shows  itself  to  lookers-on  in  many  a  cunning  way,  — 
In  playing  with  her  fingers,  or  in  learning  how  to  smile,  — 

Till  we  even  think  the  pretty  one  begins  to  know  and  bless 

The  loving  arms  that  hold  her  and  the  voices  that  caress. 


OUT   OF    TOWN.  255 

And  when  her  little  spirit  seems  within  her  breast  to  flutter, 
And  the  golden  bowl  seems  broken,  and  the  silver  cord  seems 
loosed; 

And  while,  amid  the  darkness,  seems  Azrael's  voice  to  utter, 
In  tone  of  warning,  that  our  babe  to  us  on  earth  is  lost ; 

We  fail  not  to  remember  those  glorious  words  of  His, 

Our  Christ,  who  said  of  children,  Of  such  my  kingdom  is. 

But  with  our  prayers  all  answered,  comes  the  morning  soft  and 
bright, 

And  like  the  dews  of  evening-time  our  tears  have  ceased  to  fall, 
While  the  warm  and  precious  sunshine  makes  a  glory  in  our  sight, 

And  the  baby  smiles  and  wonders  at  the  shadows  on  the  wall. 
And  I  say  unto  her  mother,  as  the  tiny  form  I  raise 
From  the  couch  where  it  is  lying,  Let  us  give  our  Maker  praise. 

Oft  we  look  upon  our  baby,  and  we  ask  ourselves  if  she  — 

Should  she  live  to  be  a  woman,  with  a  woman's  heart  and  mind  — 

Will  e'er  as  firm  and  faithful,  as  good  and  patient  be, 
As  the  one  for  whom  we've  named  her,  the  best  of  womankind,. 

Whom  all  the  world  is  praising,  who  has  found  the  Holy  Grail, 

While  performing  deeds  of  mercy,  —  sweet  FLORENCE  NIGHTIN 
GALE. 

But  more  of  sweetness  than  of  bitterness  has  mingled  in 
our  marriage-cup,  and  with  hopeful  and  rejoicing  hearts 
do  we  look  forward  to  future  years,  and  beyond  them 
to  eternity.  But  my  thoughts  glide  on  too  fast.  I  would 
go  back  again  with  memory  to  my  wedding-day. 

The  father  of  my  bride  let  not  his  only  daughter  pass 
undowered  from  the  shelter  of  his  roof.  She  came  to 
me  not  penniless,  but  bringing  with  her,  as  a  marriage 
portion,  a  small  estate  —  a  hundred  goodly  acres  —  on 
which  the  father,  at  some  future  day,  purposed  erecting 
a  chateau,  something  more  stately  than  the  home  from 
whence  she  came,  in  which  we  were  to  dwell,  and  wherein 
he  —  for  age  was  stealing  on  him,  bending  his  form  and 
silvering  over  his  head  —  could  come  to  pass  his  last  re 
maining  days. 

The  chateau  never  was  built.     The  future  day  the  old 


256  OUT  OF  TOWN. 

man  looked  for  never  came,  though  years  flew  on,  and 
he,  seated  within  his  easy  chair,  warmed  his  slippered  feet 
before  my  fire,  rubbed  his  thin  hands  approvingly  together, 
pleased  with  the  genial  warmth,  and  drank  with  relish  of 
my  wines,  praising  the  same  with  every  glass  he  drained. 
Much  talked  he,  too,  of  the  proposed  chateau,  and  weeks 
and  months  he  passed  in  drawing  plans  of  it  on  paper. 
He  even  went  so  far  as  to  consult  a  noted  architect  re 
garding  it.  A  structure  that  this  gentleman  had  built  — 
the  Castle,  I  believe,  of  Indolence,  it  is  called  —  seemed 
similar,  so  far  as  I  could  gather,  in  many  a  feature,  to  that 
my  wife's  good  father  thought  some  day  to  build.  I  have 
no  doubt  myself  but  that,  in  twenty  years  or  more,  he 
would  at  least  have  laid  the  corner-stone,  provided  that  his 
life  thus  long  were  spared.  The  generous,  kind  old  man 
—  appreciator  of  good  wines  and  many  other  things  as 
good  —  lived  not  to  finish  what  was  never  begun,  but  died 
one  Christmas  Day,  eight  years  and  something  more  after 
I  had  made  his  only  daughter  wife. 

I  would  myself  have  built  the  chateau,  as  the  old  man 
thought  of  doing,  in  strict  accordance  with  the  best-drawn 
plan  his  trembling  hand  had  made,  if  I  could  find  the 
title-deeds  to  the  estate,  or  register  of  them,  in  any  hall 
of  record.  But  the  whole  matter  seems  tangled  and  dark, 
and  wrapt  in  mystery ;  nor  can  a  living  soul  in  all  the 
land  tell  aught  concerning  it.  It  is  true,  I  hold  the  place, 
and  it  is  mine  by  right  possession  gives,  but  who  knows  ? 
if  I  should  build  thereon  a  charming  chateau,  with  pinna 
cles  and  towers,  turrets  and  battlements,  arched  windows 
and  oak  doors ;  and,  within,  tall  casements,  wainscots 
curiously  carved,  ceilings  fretted  and  groined,  and  floors 
with  jasper  and  with  sandal-wood  inlaid,  and  many  other 
things  of  rare  and  strange  device,  —  whether,  some  rainy 
day  or  other,  there  might  not  come  from  over  seas,  even 
perchance  from  mountains  in  the  moon,  a  stranger  learned 
and  versed  in  all  the  law's  strange  quips  and  quirks,  and 


OUT   OF  TOWN.  257 

oust  me  out  of  this  my  fair  domain  ;  or  else  a  neighbor, 
one  I  call  my  friend,  might,  peradventure,  rise  and  claim 
the  whole,  substantiating  it  with  mouldy  parchment  deeds  ! 
Alas  for  me  and  mine  if  this  should  happen!  and  cer 
tain  am  I  that  it  would,  if  I  should  ever  build ;  and  so, 
in  all  this  broad  demesne,  I  dare  not  lay  one  stone  above 
another. 

I  will  mention  here  that  the  estate  itself  lies  at  the 
distance  of  a  swallow's  flight,  be  the  same  more  or  less, 
from  dear  Utopia,  within  the  boundaries  of  the  country 
known  among  landless  but  aerial  proprietors  as  Spain. 

A  few  months  prior  to  the  old  man's  death,  I  wrote, 
at  his  desire,  the  lines  below,  descriptive  of  the  country 
wherein  lay  a  goodly  portion  of  his  large  possessions.  My 
wife  has  told  me  that  he  used  to  sit  at  twilight,  with  our 
little  ones  upon  his  knees,  before  a  deep-bayed  window 
looking  west,  within  my  cottage  at  Utopia,  and  then  and 
there  repeat  aloud — his  gaze  fixed  on  the  sunset  clouds  — 
my  simple  lines ;  and  thus,  one  Christmas  Day  he  died. 

BEYOND. 

THERE  is  a  country  lying  far  away, 

Beyond  the  outer  bounds  of  this  our  earth, 
Where  never  comes  a  dark  or  rainy  day, 

But  where  eacli  hour  is  fraught  with  joy  and  mirth. 
Fair  palaces,  and  stately,  crown  its  hills  ; 

Its  streets  are  broad,  and  paved  with  costly  stones  ; 
And  down  their  sides  flow  cool  and  crystal  rills, 

That  murmur  sweetly  in  a  thousand  tones. 
Its  men  are  brave,  its  women  pure  and  fair, 

And  art  and  song  are  handmaids  in  the  land ; 
While  holy  hymns,  and  blessed  words  of  prayer, 

Show  that  the  nation  is  a  Christian  band. 
This  is  the  bright  Utopia  of  our  youth,  — 

The  El.  Dorado  of  our  hopes  and  fears,  — 
And  when  in  age  we  come  to  learn  the  truth, 

A  Spanish  castle  crumbling  like  our  years. 

After  her  father's   death,  my  wife,  still  grieving  over 
17 


258  OUT  OF   TOWN. 

our  earlier  loss,  passed  many  an  hour  within  the  church 
yard,  training  the  roses  and  sweetbriers  growing  upon  our 
dead  boy's  grave  over  the  marble  slab  which  marked  the 
spot  where  lay  the  good  old  man.  There,  too,  she  led  our 
children,  and,  seated  within  the  shadow  of  a  drooping  wil 
low,  told  them  stories,  old  and  true,  drawn  from  the  Book 
of  books,  —  of  little  Samuel  and  the  stripling  David,  and 
the  child  Jesus  disputing  with  the  doctors  in  the  temple ; 
and,  also,  pretty  hymns  she  taught  them,  which  they  sung 
beside  their  brother's  grave,  so  that  the  passers-by  along 
the  dusty  highway,  hearing  their  song,  nor  knowing 
whence  it  came,  —  for  broken  wall  of  stone,  lichened  and 
green  with  moss,  hidden  from  sight  in  thick-set  privet 
hedge,  kept  them  from  view,  —  would  pause  and  listen, 
thinking  the  music  heard  from  chanting  cherubs  rose. 
There  also  did  they  learn  their  simple  prayers,  which, 
night  and  morn,  kneeling  beside  their  mother's  knee,  they 
humbly  said.  So  filled  with  love  and  thankfulness  was 
little  Fanny's  heart,  that  she  was  quick  to  utter,  in  season 
or  out,  at  home  or  abroad,  within  her  chamber  or  without 
the  house,  a  word  or  two  of  prayer.  Success  in  overcom 
ing  the  smallest  things  of  life  would  call  one  forth.  After 
her  hands  were  washed,  her  shoestrings  tied,  her  lesson 
learned,  or  many  another  daily  act  performed,  would  she 
repeat  some  simple,  childlike  prayer.  Once,  in  the  street, 
for  having  crossed  dry-shod  a  little  pool  of  water,  she,  in 
the  fulness  of  her  heart,  gave  thanks  aloud.  Then  Mary, 
standing  by  and  hearing  her,  exclaimed,  "  I  'd  not  be  such 
a  Pharisee  as  you,  Miss  Fan.  for  all  the  world."  Mary's 
rebuke  cut  Fanny  to  the  heart,  and  made  great  tears  roll 
down  her  tender  cheeks,  while  sobs,  so  big  they  choked 
her  utterance,  forbade  her  to  reply.  My  precious  child 
never  forgot  it,  and  prays  now  only  at  home  or  in  the 
village  church. 

But  again  I  wander  —  again  my  thoughts,  on  the  top 
most  billow  of  the  flood,  glide   forward  to   the  present. 


OUT  OF   TOWN.  259 

Let  the  tide  ebb  once  more,  while  memory  sails  backward 
in  the  current. 

Ten  years  ago  —  it  seems  not  that  to  me  —  standing 
beside  the  altar  in  our  village  church,  I  called  for  the  first 
time  my  sweet  one  wife.  Until  I  heard  the  man  of  God 
this  question  ask,  "  Ruth,  wilt  thou  have  this  man  to  thy 
wedded  husband  ? "  with  more  that  follows  after,  and  also 
had  heard  her  sweet  reply,  "  I  will,"  I  scarcely  could  be 
lieve  that  she  indeed  was  mine.  Not  till  the  ring  was  on, 
the  blessing  given,  and  we  had  turned  together  from  that 
spot,  did  the  truth  in  all  its  beauty  break  on  my  wedded 
heart. 

There  are  some  tones  in  marriage-bells, 
Which,  falling  on  my  list'ning  ears, 
Awaken  thoughts  of  other  years, 

That  to  my  heart  are  potent  spells. 

They  bring,  from  o'er  Time's  wid'ning  sea, 
Fair  visions,  pictured  on  my  brain, 
Of  scenes  and  days  that  ne'er  again 

Shall  come  with  joy  to  gladden  me. 

Once  more  with  Ruth  I  seem  to  stand 

Before  the  altar  and  the  priest ; 

Once  more  I  taste  the  wedding-feast, 
While  she  presides  at  my  left  hand. 

I  see  the  wreath  that  binds  her  hair ; 

I  hear,  as  't  were  a  golden  lyre, 

The  rustle  of  her  rich  attire, 
And  mark  her  coy  yet  gracious  air. 

I  note  again  her  winning  ways, 
I  hear  the  music  of  her  voice 
In  songs  that  make  my  heart  rejoice, 

Because  they  were  my  bridal  lays. 

And  yet,  I  feel  the  present  times 

Are  not  without  their  due  delight ; 

For  my  two  children  bless  my  sight, 
And  Ruth  herself  extols  my  rhymes. 


260  OUT  OF  TOWN. 

And  thus,  with  soft  regrets  behind,  — 
With  hopes  and  fears  before  me  spread,  — 
In  manly  confidence  I  tread 

The  paths  through  which  go  all  mankind. 

"  Now.  my  dears,"  I  said,  when  I  finished  the  above, 
"  thus  ends  the  stories  of  my  Family  in  Utopia,  and  with 
it  comes  the  end  of  our  Holiday  Nights'  Entertainments." 

"  Oh,  no,  papa,"  shouted  the  little  ones,  "  don't,  please, 
say  that.  There  are  three  more  days  left  before  New 
Year's,  and  you  must  have  some  story  or  other  to  tell  or 
read  to  us  every  night  till  then.  Must  n't  he,  mamma  ?  " 

Mamma  nodded  her  head. 

"  Well,"  I  replied,  "  if  you  insist  upon  it  I  will  see  what 
I  can  do,  but  you  must  not  be  disappointed  if  what  I  may 
provide  shall  prove  uninteresting." 

"  If  you  will  promise  not  to  tell  us  anything  more  about 
boots  and  shoes,"  said  my  wife,  "  I  think  we  shall  be  able 
to  keep  awake  under  the  infliction  ;  but  if  you  attempt 
anything  more  in  that  line,  I,  for  one,  shall  be  privileged 
to  leave  the  room  during  the  discourse." 

"  And  I,"  said  Miss  Floy,  "  shall  also  depart  and  take 
the  children  with  me." 

"  Which  will  give  me  an  opportunity,"  I  said,  smiling, 
"to  mix  and  drink  a  strictly  private  brevvage  which  will 
not  be  tea." 


OUT  OF  TOWN.  261 


CHAPTER  XXXIX. 

Two  Essays.  —  Something  Fearful  coming.  —  Miss  Floy's  Skirts.  —  Relief 
of  the  Little  Ones.  —  "  Winter  in  Town."  — "  Now,"  with  More  thereto 
pertaining.  —  A  Call  for  More.  —  Lamb  or  Hunt.  —  "  Winter  Out  of 
Town."  — More  "  Nows."  — A  Panorama. 

»Y  dear,"  I  said  to  Mrs.  Gray,  as  we  drew  around 
the  centre-table  in  the  library,  "I  have  written 
two  essays  to  read  to  the  club  this  evening,  and, 
as  the  lamp  is  lighted,  suppose  we  begin." 

"  Very  well,"  my  wife  replied  ;  "  children,  be  attentive  ; 
your  father  is  going  to  read  two  essays. 

The  children  looked  very  blank. 

"  Sit  well  back  in  your  chairs,  children  ;  fold  your  hands 
on  your  laps,  put  your  feet  down  on  the  floor,  and  give 
great  attention  to  your  father,  for  he  is  going  to  read  two 
essays,"  said  Miss  Floy,  slightly  improving  on  my  wife's 
commands. 

The  blankness  of  the  children  seemed  to  increase. 

"  For  goodness'  sake,"  I  exclaimed,  "  don't  frighten  the 
children  out  of  their  wits.  Little  ones,"  I  continued,  in 
the  most  conciliatory  of  tones,  "your  dear  papa  is  about 
to"  — 

"  Read  two  essays,"  broke  in  my  wife. 

"  Two  essays,"  echoed  Miss  Floy,  putting  her  eye-glasses 
over  the  bridge  of  her  nose. 

The  children  fairly  trembled. 

"  "Will  you  be  quiet  a  minute  or  two,"  I  cried  to  the  two 
feminines,  "  and  let  me  explain  to  the  children  what  I  am 
about  to  do  ?  " 


262  OUT  OF   TOWN. 

"Certainly,"  my  wife  answered,  "but  I  thought  you 
said  you  were  going  to  read  two  essays." 

"  Two  essays,"  croaked  Miss  Floy. 

"  Good  gracious  ! "  I  exclaimed,  "  do  you  want  to  drive 
me  mad  with  your  confounded  interruptions.  "Won't  you 
let  me  say  a  word  to  the  children  ?  " 

"  Certainly,"  my  wife  replied. 

"  Of  course,"  said  Miss  Floy  ;  "  go  on." 

"  Proceed,"  said  Mrs.  Gray. 

"I'll  be  hanged  if  I  do,"  I  said  ;  "  I  am  not  going  to  be 
driven  into  '  going  on,'  or  '  proceeding.'  I  choose  to  take 
my  own  time  about  it.  Em.,  ring  the  bell  for  the  servant 
to  draw  me  a  mug  of  ale." 

There  was  quiet  for  a  brief  space  of  time.  My  wife 
looked  mischievous,  Miss  Floy  looked  vicious,  and  the 
children  looked  glum.  After  T  drank  the  ale,  "  Children," 
I  said,  "  your  dear  papa  is  going  to  "  -  I  paused  a  mo 
ment,  but  there  was  no  interruption  —  "  read  two  essays. 
Your  dear  papa,  my  beloved  ones,  thinks  that  you  will  be 
amused  with  these  two  essays,  and  if  your  dear  mamma 
and  the  amiable  Miss  Floy  do  not  desire  to  hear  them, 
they  need  not  remain  in  the  library." 

Thereupon  Miss  Floy  gathered  up  her  skirts  and  swept 
like  a  new  broom  out  of  the  room.  Mrs.  Gray,  however,  who 
is  a  sensible  woman,  remained.  The  children  brightened 

*  O 

up  after  Miss  Floy's  departure,  who,  I  might  as  well  con 
fess  it,  has  accepted  the  position,  without  the  name,  of 
governess  in  my  family.  I  am  inclined  to  think  that  she 
leads  the  little  ones  anything  but  a  comfortable  life,  but 
discipline  is  everything,  and  she  employs  it,  in  her  man 
agement,  to  the  fullest  extent.  They  scarcely  dare  to  say, 
when  she  is  present,  that  the  hair  — and  they  haven't  a 
great  deal  of  it  —  on  their  little  heads  is  their  own.  I  re- 
marked  something  like  this  to  Mrs.  Gray ;  but  she  said  that 
she  saw  no  occasion  for  the  children  to  say  it.  What  hair 
they  had,  she  very  justly  remarked,  was  their  own  ;  but  she 


OUT  OF   TOWN.  2G3 

saw  no  reason  why  they  should  state  that  fact  to  Miss 
Floy  or  any  other  person.  Of  course  my  wife  is  correct, 
but  my  expression,  as  I  endeavored  to  explain  to  Mrs. 
Gray,  unsuccessfully  however,  was  only  a  general  way  of 
putting  the  fact  that  the  children  stood  slightly  in  fear  of 
Miss  Floy. 

"  Now  that  she  is  not  present,  the  little  ones,"  I  said, 
"  as  you  may  perceive,  have  unfolded  their  hands,  have 
got  their  feet  upon  the  rounds  of  their  several  chairs,  and 
are  generally  sitting  in  easy,  if  not  graceful,  attitudes." 

Mrs.  Gray  said  she  noticed  it,  and  she  did  n't  approve 
of  it,  and  on  her  threatening  to  send  for  Miss  Floy  to 
come  back,  unless  they  sat  up  correctly,  —  I  think  cor 
rectly  was  the  word  she  employed,  though  why,  I  do  not 
know,  —  they  each  arranged  themselves  again  in  system 
atic  order. 

Then  I  unrolled  my  manuscript,  and  declaring  the  club 
to  be  in  session,  read  aloud  the  following  essay  on  — 

WINTEE  IN  TOWN. 

Now  it  is  mid-winter.  Christinas  and  New  Year  have 
gone  by,  and  now  Twelfth  Night  is  here.  Now  the  mercury 
in  the  thermometer  marks  zero.  Now  the  bell  rings  for  us 
to  arise,  but  now  we  like  to  lie  in  bed  of  mornings,  debat 
ing  in  our  minds  whether  to  do  so  or  not.  Now,  as  we 
peep  from  beneath  the  bedclothes,  and  see  the  hoar-frost 
on  the  window-panes,  and  watch  our  breath,  like  smoke, 
roll  to  the  ceilings,  we  conclude  to  lie  still.  Now  we 
believe  in  Jack  Frost.  Now  we  place  our  hands  on  our 
noses,  and  are  reminded  of  icy  capes  in  the  Arctic  region. 
Now  we  draw  the  clothes  closer  about  us,  and  build  snow 
castles  in  the  air.  Now  the  shrill  cry  of  the  milkman 
arouses  us  from  our  musings,  and  his  morning  salutation 
to  the  servant  as  she  brings  out  the  pitcher  for  the  lacteal 
fluid,  reaches  our  ears,  and,  if  she  be  good-looking,  he 
embarrasses  her  with  a  sly  joke,  over  which  she  giggles  as 


264  OUT  OF  TOWN. 

she  passes  down  into  the  area.  Now  the  light  car  of  the 
baker,  with  hot  rolls  and  twists,  stops  before  the  door,  and 
we  hear  him  leap  from  it,  and  enter  the  house,  while  the 
horse  paws  with  his  hoofs  the  frozen  ground  and  neighs 
with  impatience.  Now  the  newspaper  carrier  hurries  past, 
and  as  he  throws  the  paper  into  the  area,  he  shouts  its 
name.  Now  we  listen  to  the  noise  of  feet  and  the  crack 
ling  of  the  snow,  as  the  small  tradesmen  and  early  clerks 
and  porters  hasten  "  down-town "  to  open  their  stores. 
Now  John  knocks  at  our  door,  and  says,  "  Breakfast  is 
about  up,  and  the  Gov'nor  's  down."  Now  we  ask  John  if 
he  thinks  ice  made  during  the  night  ?  to  which  he  answers 
with  a  chuckle,  rolling  his  eyes  towards  the  windows, 
"  Some,  sir."  Now  we  tell  him,  as  he  places  our  boots  at 
the  bedside,  that  hot  water  is  a  luxury.  Now  declaring 
that  the  Croton  is  frozen  in  the  pipes,  he  goes  down  to  the 
kitchen  for  the  hot  water.  Now  we  draw  the  bedclothes 
closer  about  us,  and  pull  our  cap  further  over  our  ears. 
Now  we  grope  in  the  bed  for  our  stockings  with  our  feet, 
and  as  they  touch  the  cold  sheets  we  quickly  withdraw 
them,  and  desire  a  hot  brick.  Now  we  dress  and  shiver, 
and  now  we  leave  our  chamber.  Now  the  little  breakfast- 
room  looks  pleasant,  and  the  sun  shines  in  at  the  eastern 
window,  and  its  rays  fall  with  a  roseate  tinge  upon  the 
white  table-linen.  Now  the  fire  in  the  grate  burns  freely, 
and  the  bituminous  coal  sputters  and  blazes  whenever  it 
is  stirred.  Now  the  morning  papers  send  up  a  steam  from 
their  fresh  sheets  as  they  are  opened  before  the  fire.  Now 
we  read  accounts  of  persons  being  frozen  to  death,  and  of 
poor  children  perishing  of  starvation  and  exposure.  Now 
the  coffee-urn  bubbles  and  sings,  and  the  plates  are  heated 
before  the  fire,  and  the  steak  and  rolls  are  brought  in,  and 
now  we  sit  down  to  breakfast.  Now  butter,  and  flies  on  the 
window-pane,  grow  stiff,  and  seats  nearest  the  fire  are  pre 
ferred.  Now  the  Governor  puts  on  his  spectacles  and 
reads  the  paper,  sipping  his  coffee  between  the  paragraphs, 


OUT  OF   TOWN.  265 

with  the  air  of  a  gentleman  of  leisure.  Now  sister  Mary 
presides  at  the  urn  ;  and  the  old  lady  butters  the  muffins, 
while  we  carve  the  steak.  Now  we  love  to  linger  long 
around  the  table,  as  the  old  lady  makes  out  her  list  of  the 
marketings  we  are  to  send  home.  Now  gloves  and  fur 
tippets  are  in  requisition,  and  overshoes  and  coats  are 
warmed  before  putting  on.  Now  kisses  are  exchanged  by 
newly  married  couples,  and  the  little  child  holds  up  its 
pretty  mouth  to  be  kissed  by  papa. 

Now  out-of-doors  the  air  is  piercingly  cold,  and  our 
breath  freezes  as  it  leaves  our  lips.  Now  our  beard  and 
mustache  are  encrusted  with  ice,  and  our  fingers  turn  to 
icicles.  Now  large  men,  buttoned  to  the  chin  in  heavy 
over-coats,  and  with  fur  collars  around  their  ears,  hasten 
over  the  crossings,  heeding  not  the  thinly  clad,  pale-faced 
little  girls  running  at  their  side,  imploring  a  few  coppers. 
Now  sleighs  glide  by,  containing  ladies  richly  and  warmly 
clad  in  velvets  and  furs,  whose  horses  keep  time  in  their 
prancing  to  the  chime  of  silver  bells  above  their  saddles. 
Now  huge  sleighs,  drawn  by  a  dozen  horses  or  more,  and 
filled  with  the  democracy  of  our  city,  grate  harshly  over 
the  pavement  of  Broadway.  Now  stray  dogs  seek  sunny 
doorways,  where  they  may  warm  their  chilled  bodies.  Now 
old  ladies,  unless  they  be  very  careful,  are  likely  to  slip 
down.  Now  boys  skate  on  the  sidewalks,  and  little  girls, 
on  their  way  to  school,  slide  wherever  they  find  a  bit  of  ice. 
Now  the  big  pond  in  the  Central  Park  is  the  place  of 
resort,  where  skaters  most  do  congregate.  Now  the  sunny 
side  of  the  street  is  much  frequented,  and  ragged  boys 
nestle  together  and  sun  themselves  in  corners.  Now  noses 

O 

grow  red,  and  eyes  water,  and  teeth  are  apt  to  chatter. 
Now  cigars  become  a  necessity,  and  pipes  are  excusable. 
Now  hot  whiskey-punches  are  at  par  and  ice-water  at  a 
discount.  Now  itinerant  organ-grinders  play  mournful 
tunes  in  the  cold  winter  solstice,  and  have  a  hard  time 
generally,  and  their  red-coated,  barefooted  little  monkeys  a 


266  OUT  OF  TOWN. 

still  harder.  Now  fat  men,  and  cooks  and  bakers,  are 
better  off  than  kings  and  queens,  and  a  tavern  kitchen 
is  no  bad  place.  Now  stage-drivers  may  be  pitied,  and 
stage  managers  envied.  Now  theatres  are  patronized, 
and  Booth's  Hamlet  and  Clarke's  Toodles  are  having  a 
run.  Now  coal-yards  are  visited  and  ice-houses  shunned. 
Now  Greenwood  is  not  considered  as  desirable  a  spot  as  it 
is  in  summer  time,  and  Coney  Island  and  Long  Branch 
are  deserted.  Now  hoops  must  be  cool  institutions,  and  a 
fan  a  useless  invention.  Now  dancing  and  wood-sawing 
are  really  enjoyed  by  those  who  like  them,  and  bowling  is 
pleasant  exercise.  Now  church-spires  glisten  in  icy  mail, 
and  the  eaves  of  houses  are  warlike  with  pendent  icicles. 
Now  the  fountain  in  the  Park  ceases  to  spout.  Now  the 
wind  sets  from  the  north.  Now  people  eat  substantial 
dinners.  Now  the  sun  disappears  early  in  the  afternoon, 
and  the  stars  shine  till  late  in  the  morning.  Now  we  have 
brief  days,  and  now  nights  are  allowed  an  extension.  Now 
much  gas  is  burned,  and  the  gas  companies  make  money. 
Now  young  men  find  time  to  go  a-courting.  Now  late 
suppers  are  patronized,  and  oysters  are  in  good  repute. 
Now  policemen  retire  from  the  street  and  may  be  found  in 
kitchens  and  bar-rooms.  Now  nightcaps  and  warm  flan 
nels  are  not  to  be  recklessly  dispensed  with  ;  and  now  it  is 
time  to  say  our  prayers  and  go  to  bed. 

When  I  had  concluded,  the  children  expressed  them 
selves  as  much  delighted  with  the  first  essay,  and  asked 
immediately  for  the  second.  Even  Mrs.  Gray  said  it  was 
not  bad,  but  she  thought  that  there  was  something  similar 
to  it  either  in  Leigh  Hunt's  or  Charles  Lamb's  writings. 

"  If  there  be,"  I  said,  "  you  may  find  it  out.  I  am  not 
going  to  point  out  the  page,  and  thereby  destroy  the  credit 
of  originality  which  it  now  possesses  in  the  minds  of  the 
children." 

The  children  said   they  were  certain  no  one  had  ever 


OUT  OF   TOWN.  267 

written  like  it,  or  could  write  like  it,  and  that  papa  was 
the  best  writer  in  the  world.  After  this  praise  I  could  not 
do  otherwise  than  read  the  second  essay,  entitled,  — 

WINTER  OUT  OF  TOWN. 

Now,  in  the  country,  it  is  mid-winter.  Now  the 
snow  lies  in  huge  drifts  against  stone  walls,  and  beside 
long  lines  of  fences.  Now  the  wood-pile  becomes  a  moun 
tain  of  snow,  and  the  well-curb  is  hidden  from  sight. 
Now,  on  the  farm,  cattle  linger  around  the  barn-yard 
trough,  waiting  for  a  friendly  hand  to  break  the  ice.  Now 
fowls  stand  on  one  leg,  with  heads  sunken  in  their  feathers, 
and  nestle  closely  to  each  other  when  they  go  to  roost. 
Now  peacocks  freeze  to  death,  and  pigeons  fall  dead  from 
their  perches.  Now  turkeys,  geese,  and  ducks  are  apt  to 
go  off  suddenly,  especially  about  the  holidays  ;  and  now 
hens  refuse  to  lay  eggs.  Now  chilly  are  the  sheep  in 
woolly  fold,  and  numb  the  herdsman's  fingers  as  he  fodders 
them.  Now  hares  and  rabbits  limp  trembling  through 
the  frosty  snow,  and  squirrels,  all  a-cold,  ran  along  the 
fences.  Now  bears  suck  their  paws,  and  bees  are  torpid. 
Now  the  air  on  the  hill-tops  is  piercingly  cold,  while  in 
the  woods  it  is  comparatively  mild.  Now  forest-trees  fall 
beneath  the  axe  of  the  woodman,  and  saw-logs  are  drawn 
to  the  mill.  Now  the  report  of  the  hunter's  rifle  rings 
out  sharp  and  clear,  and  deer  and  foxes  give  up  the  ghost. 
Now  snow-shoes  are  very  well  in  their  way,  and  to  walk 
with  them  on  the  deep  snow  is  splendid  exercise.  Now 
dancing  with  stilts  on  the  crusted  ...ground  is  an  impos 
sibility,  and  to  dance  without  them  would  be  an  absurdity. 
Now  barns  are  cheerless  places,  and  hayricks  not  exactly 
the  thing.  Now  the  measured  strokes  of  the  flail  of  the 
husbandman  are  heard,  and  fill  the  ear  like  a  song  of 
thanksgiving.  Now  oats  are  oats  and  corn  is  corn,  and 
there  is  no  such  thing  as  grass  save  in  the  flesh.  Now 
sheep  are  sheep,  and  lambs  are  slowly  coming.  Now  pine- 


268  OUT  OF   TOWN. 

knots  blaze  in  farm-houses,  and  chips  collect  in  the  back 
yard.  Now  seats  by  blazing  wood-fires  are  particularly 
affected  by  old  ladies  who  knit,  and  children  who  roast 
apples.  Now  barrels  of  cider  in  the  cellar  are  tapped, 
and  pork-barrels  dipped  into.  Now  potatoes  and  pump 
kins  are  covered  with  straw,  and  bins  of  apples  —  rosy- 
cheeked,  russet,  and  green  —  are  protected  from  frost.  Now 
buckwheat  cakes  are  at  a  premium,  and  maple  syrup  is 
better  than  molasses.  Now  honey  is  not  bad,  nor  fresh 
butter,  if  one  can  get  it,  to  be  calumniated.  Now  rooms 
with  northern  exposures  are  to  be  avoided,  and  quilts  and 
rose-blankets  can  scarcely  be  depended  upon  to  keep  away 
the  cold.  Now  loosely  fitted  window-sashes  shake  in  the 
night-time,  and  the  lightning-rod  rattles  against  the  side 
of  the  house.  Now  weathercocks  are  in  their  glory,  and 
vary  with  every  wind  that  blows.  Now  the  mercury  in 
the  thermometer  marks  twenty  degrees  below  zero,  and 
now  never-failing  springs  freeze  over.  Now  the  Bronx 
is  frozen  over,  and  the  little  ones  going  there  to  skate  or 
slide  on  the  ice,  get  falls,  and  come  home  with  many 
bruises.  Now  stone  foundations  of  old  farm-houses  snap, 
with  a  report  like  the  crack  of  a  pistol,  causing  children 
to  start  affrighted  from  their  sleep.  Now  pails  of  water, 
inadvertently  left  out-of-doors,  burst  their  hoops,  which 
are  quickly  seized  upon  by  little  lasses,  who  insert  them 
in  their  quilted  skirts.  Now  ice  makes  in  the  pitcher, 
and  the  oil  in  the  lamp  is  hardened.  Now  shaving  seems 
as  bad  as  tooth-drawing,  and  razors  are  like  icicles.  Now 
slippers  almost  freeze  the  feet.  Now  well-to-do  farmers 
build  up  their  poor  neighbors'  wood-piles,  and  their  kind- 
hearted  wives  send  widows,  pitiful  in  rusty  crape,  great 
baskets  stored  with  good  things.  Now  spareribs  and 
mince-pies  are  in  good  repute,  and  doughnuts  are  impor 
tant  institutions.  Now  quiltings  and  apple-bees  are  of 
frequent  occurrence,  and  sleighing  parties  often  meet  with 
upsets.  Now  a  "  dance "  at  the  tavern  is  a  matter  to 


OUT   OF   TOWN.  269 

talk  about,  and  the  belle  of  the  ball-room  —  a  plump  lass 
in  a  pink  dress  —  a  being  to  be  remembered  forever. 
Now  nuts  are  cracked,  and  apples  are  eaten.  Now  farm 
ers  talk  about  last  year's  crops,  and  read  the  History  of 
the  Rebellion.  Now  singing-schools  are  attractive,  and 
debating  societies  are  in  their  zenith.  Now  donation  par 
ties  take  place,  and  parsons  are  affable  and  contented. 
Now  little  girls,  when  they  go  abroad,  wear  mittens,  and 
have  stockings  drawn  over  their  shoes,  and  are  wrapped 
in  red  cloaks  ;  while  in-doors,  clad  in  woollen  dresses,  and 
with  checkered  aprons,  they  delight  to  sit  in  the  chimney 
corner  and  read  aloud  to  their  grandmothers,  from  the 
Bible,  the  story  of  little  Samuel.  Now  small  boys  like  to 
slide  "  clown-hill "  on  their  sleds,  and  take  much  pleasure 
in  snowballing  each  other.  Now  large  boys  go  a-skating, 
and  rejoice  themselves  by  cutting  figures  and  letters  on 
the  surface  of  the  ice,  with  skilful  manoeuvre,  and  now  a 
plump  through  an  air-hole  is  highly  dangerous  and  un 
pleasant.  Now  the  trees  are  leafless,  —  save  the  ever 
greens,  which  are  refreshing  to  look  at,  —  and  the  snow 
sifts  drearily  through  their  naked  branches.  Now  the 
singing-birds  have  gone  South,  and  their  last  year's  nests 
are  filled  with  ice  and  snow.  Now  snow-birds  chirp,  and 
"  the  owl,  for  all  his  feathers,  is  a-cold."  Now  Dinah,  the 
cook,  says,  "  flannel  petticoats  are  in  season,"  and  young 
girls  term  flannel-waistcoats  "  delightful."  Now  flaxen- 
haired  children,  hand  in  hand,  with  dinner-pails  on  their 
arms,  and  school-books  in  their  satchels,  trudge  through 
the  snow  to  the  district  school-house.  Now  school-boys 
model  in  snow  the  form  of  the  pedagogue,  and  take  much 
comfort  in  pelting  it  with  snowballs.  Now  they  build 
forts,  and  fire  at  each  other  from  behind  them,  while  the 
more  juvenile  play  at  "  track  the  rabbit"  Now  boys  com 
plain  of  frozen  toes  and  nipped  ears ;  and  little  girls  talk 
about  chilblains.  Now  even  burly  men  think  it  chilly, 
and  every  one  says  to  every  one  he  meets,  "  How  cold  it 


270  OUT  OF  TOWN. 

is  !  "  And  now  the  writer,  finding  his  fingers  all  thumbs, 
and  his  back  an  iceberg,  thinks  that  he  will  freeze  up  and 
come  to  the  end  of  his  chapter. 

When  I  stopped  reading,  the  children  clapped  their 
hands,  and  Miss  Em.  said,  that  while  I  Avas  reading  it 
seemed  to  her  that  one  of  those  panoramas  she  had  seen 
in  the  city  was  passing  before  her.  Both  of  the  essays 
seemed  to  be  full  of  pictures.  My  wife  said  it  was  amus 
ing,  but  that  she  was  going  to  see  if  she  couldn't  find 
something  like  it  among  the  books  of  her  library,  and  if 
she  did  she  should  make  a  note  of  it. 

Then  I  declared  the  meeting  around  the  evening  lamp 
to  be  dissolved,  and  that  the  little  ones  might  go  to  bed. 
Which  they  did. 


OUT  OF  TOWN.  271 


CHAPTER  XL. 

Miss  Em.  speaks.  —  Another  Story.  —  The  Little  Quakeress.  —  An  Old 
House.  —  A  Pattern  Housekeeper.  —  Tim  Coffin.  —  Long  Sally.  — 
Yarns. —A  Libel.  — A  Strict  Friend. —  A  Little  Violet.  —  Little 
Ruth.  —  What  all  Good  Girls  should  do.  —  Charlton.  —A  Bit  of  Love. 
A  Wedding. 

jO  sooner  did  I  put  down  the  evening  paper  which 
I  had  been  reading,  seated  in  my  arm-chair  before 
the  fire  in  the  library,  than  the  little  ones,  whom 
I  had  observed  earnestly  chattering  among  themselves, 
in  one  corner  of  the  room,  approached  me  in  a  body,  and 
making  Miss  Em.  the  spokesman,  asked  me  to  tell  them 
another  story  about  my  children  in  Utopia. 

I  replied  that  I  believed  I  had  nothing  more  to  relate 
about  those  precious  little  ones,  but  that,  if  they  wo"uld 
like  to  hear  a  true  story  instead,  I  would  tell  them  one. 
Thereupon  they  clapped  their  hands,  and  shouting  with 
glee,  gave  me  to  understand  that  nothing  would  please 
them  better.  So,  drawing  around  the  library  table,  I  pro 
ceeded  to  unfold  the  following  story  about  — 

THE  LITTLE  QUAKERESS. 

"  MANY  years  ago,  when  the  winters  were  colder  than 
they  are  now,  and  the  snow  came  earlier  and  remained 
later  than  in  these  degenerate  days,  —  and,  moreover,  lay 
deeper  upon  the  ground  than  at  present,  —  so  long  ago 
that  only  the  oldest  inhabitants  can  remember  the  time, 
there  stood,  and  is  still  standing,  in  the  main  street  of  a 
certain  little  city,  a  wooden  house,  which,  though  now 


272  OUT  OF   TOWN. 

sadly  out  of  repair,  —  for  the  top  of  the  chimney  has  fallen 
in,  and  the  window-shutters  hang  loosely,  and  creak  and 
groan  on  their  well-worn  hinges  with  every  wind  that 
rushes  past,  —  then  gloried  in  a  new  coat  of  white  paint 
and  bright  green  blinds,  with  a  highly  polished  brass 
knocker  on  the  door  ;  all  of  which,  with  the  neatness 
which  was  visible  about  it,  —  for  not  a  blade  of  grass  or 
a  single  weed  was  allowed  to  come  up  through  the  cracks 
in  the  pavement,  —  certainly  proclaimed  it  to  be  the  pret 
tiest  house  in  the  neighborhood,  and  led  one  to  think  that 
its  housekeeper  must  be  a  pattern  for  all  housewives  ;  and 
so,  indeed,  she  was.  Such  extraordinary  scrubbing  and 
cleaning  as  she  kept  up  throughout  the  week,  was  enough 
to  drive  a  poor  man,  who  loved  retirement  and  quiet,  quite 
crazy.  Mondays  and  Saturdays  were  her  great  days, 
wherein  she  celebrated  her  love  for  cleanliness  with  more 
ardor  and  devotion  than  she  was  wont  to  celebrate  the 
anniversary  of  her  marriage.  But  there  were  two  seasons 
of  the  year  when  she  seemed  more  than  herself,  as  beirg 
gifted  with  supernatural  powers,  and  those  were  early  in 
the  spring  and  late  in  the  fall,  when  the  house  seemed  a 
perfect  little  bedlam.  Such  turning  upside  down  of  tables 
and  chairs,  such  taking  apart  of  bedsteads  and  polishing 
of  bureaus  and  sideboards,  such  washing  of  windows  and 
scrubbing  of  paint,  such  shaking  of  carpets  and  white 
washing  of  walls  and  ceilings,  and  such  quantities  of  soap 
and  water  as  were  then  used,  would  certainly  shock  any 
respectable  boarding-house  keeper  of  these  days  into  a 
premature  decline.  Truly,  she  was  renowned  among  the 
neighbors  as  a  notable  good  woman,  who  could  wash,  bake, 
brew,  scold,  and  gossip  with  the  best  of  them. 

"  Indeed,  my  little  ones,  such  an  exemplary  housekeeper 
is  seldom  to  be  found  nowadays."  Here  I  looked  at  Mrs. 
Gray,  who,  without  looking  up  from  her  crocheting,  simply 
said,  she  should  hope  so. 

"At  the  time  of  which  I  speak,"  I  continued,  "  this  house 


OUT  OF  TOWN.  273 

was  owned  and  occupied  by  a  jolly  little  man  by  the  name 
of  Timothy  Coffin  ;  though,  to  tell  the  truth,  Tim  was  a 
mere  cipher  in  his  household,  as  meek  and  patient  as  a 
lamb,  though  out-of-doors  Captain  Tim  was  as  bold  as 
a  lion,  and  feared  no  man  ;  but  albeit  the  sight  of  a  woman 
made  his  heart  quake  —  his  wife  Sally  evidently  being  the 
master.  How  it  happened  that  Captain  Tim  came  to 
marry  Long  Sally  Coffin,  (for  she  was  also  a  Coffin,  and 
sister  of  Long  Tom  of  that  name,)  will  ever  remain  a  mys 
tery  ;  for  I  have  made  diligent  search  throughout  many 
old  letters  relating  to  the  Coffin  family,  in  the  hope  of 
finding  some  clew  by  which  to  arrive  at  a  conclusion  ;  even 
their  family  Bible  only  states,  that  on  such  a  day,  which 
now  matters  not,  seeing  that  it  hath  long  since  passed 
away,  they  were  married  after  the  manner  of  Friends, 
at  the  bride's  paternal  mansion,  on  the  little  island  of 
Nantucket. 

"  Now,  though  Captain  Tim  wore  the  drab  coat  and  the 
broad  brim  of  the  Quakers,  yet  would  he  sometimes  let 
fall  strange  words  which  were  not  seeming  in  one  of  his 

o  £j 

persuasion  ;  neither  are  they,  even  at  the  present  time,  in 
any  one,  though  I  regret  to  say  that  some  men  are  prone 
to  use  them.  But,  when  we  bethink  ourselves  of  the  re 
markable  wife  he  had,  it  seemeth  no  longer  of  so  much 
wonder  that  he  should  once  in  a  while  forget  himself." 

Here  Mrs.  Gray  interrupted  me  by  saying  she  did  not 
think  even  that  was  cause  sufficient  to  make  any  one  use 
bad  language. 

"  As  I  said  before,"  I  continued,  not  heeding  my  wife's 
remark,  "  Captain  Tim  was  a  jolly  little  fellow,  who  liked  his 
pipe  and  his  mug  of  ale  quite  as  much  as  if  he  had  been 
born  a  Dutchman  instead  of  the  sturdy  Yankee  that  he 
was  ;  and  in  wet  weather,  or  even  when  it  betokened  a 
storm,  he  would  not  refuse  a  glass  of  good  brandy,  which, 
he  said,  would  not  hurt  any  man  if  taken  with  moderation  ; 
but  it  grieves  me  seriously  to  know  that  there  are  some 
18 


274  OUT   OF   TOWN. 

persons  even  in  this  age  who  drink  to  excess.  Now, 
nothing  pleased  Captain  Tim  better  than  to  be  seated  on 
a  stormy  winter  night,  beside  a  large  blazing  wood-fire, 
smoking  his  pipe,  with  a  glass  of  brandy  and  water  by  his 
elbow,  spinning  to  his  old  comrades  long  tales  about  the 
time  when  he  sailed  as  master  in  the  good  ship  Sally  Ann 
from  the  port  of  Nantucket.  Then  was  he  truly  in  his 
glory,  and  his  small  gray  eyes  would  twinkle  with  glee,  and 
his  rubicund  face  would  shine  like  polished  mahogany, 
while  his  bald  head  glistened  like  a  pewter  basin.  Al 
though  some  used  to  say,  more  especially  the  young  men 
of  those  days,  that  his  stories  were  without  any  wit,  yet  I 
am  inclined  to  think  that  his  libellers  must  have  been 
actuated  by  jealousy  ;  for  true  it  was  that  at  any  social 
gathering,  the  young  maidens,  for  the  sake  of  hearing  his 
sailor  yarns,  would  congregate  around  Captain  Tim,  whom 
they  all  loved  as  a  father,  though  he  looked  on  them  with 
suspicious  eyes,  for  he  deemed  that  all  women  were  alike  ; 
and  though  they  might  be  sunshine  and  laughter  before 
marriage,  yet  after  would  their  true  characters  be  unfolded, 
and  the  clouds  and  tears  which  they  had  hidden  from  sight 
in  their  courtship  days,  would  reappear,  and  even  with 
more  strength  than  before.  The  greatest  plague  to  Captain 
Tim  was  his  wife's  tongue,  which  he  used  to  say  was  a  more 
fearful  sound  to  him  than  the  breakers  on  a  lee  shore ;  and, 
truly,  I  believe  it  was. 

"  Some  one  has  said,  that  the  reason  monkeys  do  not 
talk,  is,  that  they  may  not  work ;  but  many  women,  on  the 
contrary,  talk  twice  as  much,  just  because  they  work  ;  and 
such  was  the  case  with  Long  Sally  Coffin,  who,  the  more  she 
worked,  the  louder  and  faster  she  talked,  till  it  often  seemed 
that  she  must  faint  from  sheer  exhaustion ;  but  such  a 
happy  thing  for  Captain  Tim  never  occurred ;  so  he  was 
fain  to  content  himself  with  hoping  that  the  time  would 
come  when  his  wife  would  learn  that,  to  make  home 
pleasant  to  him,  it  would  be  necessary  for  her  to  put  a 


OUT  OF  TOWN.  275 

bridle  upon  her  tongue.  Alas !  't  was  a  vain  hope  for 
Captain  Tim." 

"  A  worse  libel  on  woman,  than  all  you  have  just  said," 
interrupted  my  wife,  "  I  don't  think  I  ever  listened  to  ;  and 
I  warn  you,  my  children,  not  to  believe  what  your  naughty 
papa  is  telling  you." 

"  But  you  know,  ma,"  replied  Miss  Em.,  "  that  papa  said 
it  was  a  true  story." 

"  Your  father,  rny  love,"  my  wife  answered,  "  is  prone  to 
declare  a  great  many  things  to  be  true  which  are  false,  and 
much  that  is  false  he  as  often  pronounces  to  be  true." 

"  That  is  a  libel  on  me,  at  all  events,"  I  said ;  and,  with 
out  waiting  for  the  smart  reply  which  I  saw  on  my  wife's 
tongue,  I  continued  the  story. 

"  Now,  Long  Sally,  as  Captain  Tim's  wife  was  called,  to 
distinguish  her  from  others  of  the  same  name,  was  a  tall, 
slim,  gaunt  woman,  the  very  personification  of  a  scold;  and 
yet  at  times,  when  her  tongue  was  still,  which,  truly,  was 
but  seldom,  one  could  trace  on  her  face  the  remains  of 
great  beauty,  though  almost  effaced  by  the  wrinkles  and 
lines  of  care  which  now  were  so  visible.  It  was  the  last 
remnant  of  her  girlhood,  and  no  one  would  think  who  looked 
upon  her  now.  that  she  had  once  been  celebrated  for  her 
beauty ;  but,  peradventure,  that  was  the  reason  why  Captain 
Tim  came  to  marry  her.  The  plain  dress,  so  very  neat, 
which  she  wore,  and  the  simple  thee  and  thou  language 
which  she  used,  were  in  strange  contrast  to  the  loud  voice 
and  shrill  tones  that  were  wont  to  issue  from  her  lips ;  and 
one  would  not  willingly  believe  that  she  was  a  strict 
follower  of  that  gentle  sect,  the  Quakers.  But  thus  it  was, 
and  so  strict  was  she,  that  when  her  daughter  appeared  one 
day  with  a  rose-bud  twined  in  her  hair,  she  rebuked  her 
and  told  her  to  put  it  away,  as  it  was  not  seeming  to  be 
fond  of  gay  flowers. 

"  Sometimes,  my  children,  when  wandering  in  the  woods, 
I  have  suddenly  come  upon  a  single  little  violet,  raising  its 


276  OUT  OF  TOWN. 

head  from  the  tangled  fern  and  long  grass  which  grew 
around  it,  apparently  more  beautiful  for  being  thus  alone 
in  the  midst  of  strange  and  unseemly  weeds,  than  if  it  had 
been  placed  in  the  parterre  of  some  magnificent  garden  ; 
and  I  have  thought  to  myself  that  the  sunlight  fell  more 
lovingly  about  it,  and  the  night  dews  rested  more  gently 
upon  its  leaves,  and  even  the  very  winds,  as  they  went  past, 
breathed  more  softly  upon  it  than  on  the  wilder  things 
that  surrounded  it,  while  it,  in  turn,  seemed  to  yield  a 
grateful  perfume  to  the  wild  and  scentless  shrubs  about 
it.  To  me  it  always  appeared  that  the  good  Being  took 
more  than  usual  care  of  such  lonely  little  flowers,  and 
nurtured  them  as  his  own  especial  favorites." 

"That's  pretty,  isn't  it  mamma?"  asked  Em.  Mamma, 
however,  only  smiled  in  a  half-satirical  fashion. 

"  Like  such  a  flower,"  I  continued,  u  was  little  Ruth 
Coffin.  Her  sensitive  nature  shrunk  from  contact  with 
the  world,  and  took  refuge  in  the  protection  of  the  rough 
but  generous  spirits  of  her  household  among  whom  her 
lot  was  cast ;  they  shielded  her  as  the  shepherd  does  the 
feeble  lamb,  allowing  no  wind  to  visit  it  too  roughly.  She 
was  the  sweet  flower  of  the  garden  —  the  joy,  the  gladness, 
and  the  sunshine  of  the  home.  In  truth,  Ruth  was  one 
of  those  merry  little  maidens  round  whose  hearts  seem  to 
cluster  loving  thoughts,  who  have  ever  a  sweet  smile  and 
a  pleasant  word  for  all  whom  they  may  meet,  and  who 
come  across  our  paths  like  stray  beams  of  sunshine,  mak 
ing  glad  our  ways,  and  giving  new  vigor  and  fresh  impulse 
to  all  good  inclinations.  Though  Ruth  was  not  what 
is  termed  handsome,  —  that  is,  her  features  were  not  so 
regular  and  finely  chiselled  as  they  might  have  been,  nor 
her  complexion  as  white,  nor  her  cheeks  as  red,  as  powder 
and  rouge  would  have  made  them,  —  yet  most  people 
termed  her  pretty,  which  should  be  enough  to  satisfy  you 
that  she  was  far  from  being  homely,  and  also  prove  that 
little  Ruth  was  one  whom  none  could  know  without  lov- 


OUT   OF  TOWN.  277 

ins;,  for  there  was  something  most  pleasing  in  her  ap 
pearance  ;  and  whether  it  was  her  mariner,  her  voice,  or 
her  words  which  most  did  captivate,  it  would  be  hard  to 
tell.  Xo  one  could  look  upon  her  face  without  being 
aware  that  she  possessed  a  most  loving  heart ;  for  if  the 
eyes  are  an  index  of  the  soul,  then  truly  was  it  so  with 
Ruth,  for  there  was  more  of  love  beaming  from  those  blue 
eyes  of  hers  than  would  fill  the  hearts  of  half  a  dozen  city 
belles  of  these  days.  In  sad  sooth  it  is  most  true  that 
many  women  now,  instead  of  living  to  be  loved,  —  living 
for  home  and  home  joys,  —  seek  rather  to  be  thought  cold- 
hearted  and  free  from  those  sentiments  which  should  be 
woman's  greatest  pride,  —  affection  and  respect  for  her 
husband,  and  love  and  care  for  her  children.  They  too 
often  forget  that  '  the  training  and  bearing  of  a  child  is 
woman's  wisdom  ; '  and  they  seek  in  the  frivolities  of  fash 
ionable  life  for  that  entertainment  which  can  only  be  ob 
tained  at  home." 

•'  Another  libel,  my  children,"  said  Mrs.  Gray,  "  on  your 
mother,  and  Miss  Floy,  and  yourselves,  and  indeed  all  who 
are  of  the  gentler  sex.  Your  papa  appears  to  be  in  a 
most  amiable  humor  to-night,  and  I  fear  that  something 
has  gone  wrong  with  him  in  town." 

Making  no  reply,  and  only  shaking  my  head  at  my  wife, 
I  continued :  — 

"  Had  it  not  been  for  Ruth,  her  father,  jolly  old  Captain 
Tim,  would  have  found  his  home  most  irksome  ;  but  when 
with  her  he  felt  that  he  had  brought  his  ship  into  a  good 
anchorage  ground,  —  a  quiet,  retired  bay,  where  no  waves 
or  winds  came  to  disturb  his  repose.  Never  a  loud  or  a 
cross  word  did  his  wife  give  unto  Ruth,  and  even  when  she 
spake  chidingly  to  her  husband  before  Ruth,  which  was 
but  seldom,  her  voice,  modulated  and  softened  from  its 
usual  severity,  sounded  more  like  those  old  winning  tones 
which  he  had  hearkened  to  of  yore ;  and  his  sturdy  heart 
—  for  he  had  a  sturdy,  brave  old  heart  within  his  breast  — 


278  OUT   OF  TOWN. 

would  beat  to  the  measure  of  happier  days.  Often  had 
little  Ruth,  when  a  child,  sat  for  hours  together  on  the  old 
man's  knee,  with  her  small  delicate  hands  clasped  in  his 
rough  and  horny  ones,  eagerly  listening  to  stories  of  his 
seafaring  life ;  and  when  he  told  of  the  many  dangers  he 
had  gone  through,  of  his  shipwrecks  and  providential  es 
capes  from  death,  she  would  cling  closer  to  him,  and  plac 
ing  her  soft  arm  around  his  neck,  impress  a  kiss  upon  his 
weather-beaten  cheek,  and  make  him  promise  that  he 
will  never  again  venture  upon  that  treacherous  sea,  but 
will  always  stay  at  home  and  tell  stories  to  her.  Then, 
when  she  grew  older,  seated  in  her  chair  by  his  side,  she 
would  read  aloud  to  him  —  for  his  eyes  were  growing  dim 
and  he  could  not  see  clearly  for  any  length  of  time  —  from 
that  well-worn  and  long-treasured  book,  the  Bible  ;  and 
thus  many  a  long  afternoon  in  summer  would  she  make 
short,  and  many  a  dreary  one  in  winter  pleasant,  by  her 
attention  and  care  for  his  comfort." 

"  That  was  nice,  papa,  in  her,  was  n't  it  ?  "  asked  Miss 
Em. 

"  Yes,  my  child,"  I  answered ;  "  and  it  is  what  all  good 
little  girls  who  love  their  papas  ought  to  do.  Isn't  it, 
mamma  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  mamma. 

"  Now,  it  is  not  to  be  expected,"  I  continued,  "  or  even 
desired,  that  little  Ruth,  who  had  arrived  at  the  sunny 
age  of  eighteen,  should  be  without  admirers  ;  nor  was  it 
so,  though  I  know  not  how  many,  but  at  any  rate  a  goodly 
number  of  the  young  men  who  were  then  residents  of  the 
quiet  little  city,  had  long  looked  upon  Ruth  with  feelings 
very  much  akin  to  love.  It  is  true  that  none  had  as  yet 
dared  to  tell  her  so,  nor  had  she  ever  shown  a  preference 
for  any  of  them ;  but,  nevertheless,  it  was  most  certain 
that  many  of  the  young  men  worshipped,  in  the  secrecy 
and  silence  of  their  own  hearts,  the  modest  little  Quaker 
ess,  Ruth  Coffin.  But  there  was  one  thing  which  puzzled 


OUT  OF   TOWN.  279 

little  Ruth  most  sadly :  why  was  it  that  among  all  the 
young  men  about  her,  who  were  so  anxious  to  do  her  bid 
ding,  there  should  be  one  of  the  number  who  had  never 
offered  his  services  to  her  in  any  way ;  he  would  stand 
quietly  by  and  see  others  do  that  for  her  which  would  have 
been  most  easy  for  him  to  have  performed  ;  nor  had  he 
ever  asked  her  to  accompany  him  to  any  of  the  picnics 
and  merrymakings  which  so  often  took  place.  All  this 
to  Ruth  was  quite  a  mystery  and  one  which  she  could  not 
understand.  She  did  not  dream  for  a  moment  that  this 
very  inattention  to  her  sprang  from  a  feeling  of  love,  and 
that  his  seeming  coldness  was  anything  but  natural.  How 
could  she  know  that  he  would  have  perilled  his  life  for  her 
had  it  been  necessary  ?  or  why  should  she  imagine  that  he 
loved  her  ?  he  had  never  whispered  to  her  any  of  the  deli 
cate  flatteries  of  which  the  others  were  so  bountiful,  and 
which  are  at  all  times  so  pleasing  to  a  woman's  vanity,  even 
though  she  may  know  at  the  time  that  they  mean  nothing. 
No,  little  Ruth  was  not  as  wise  as  are  many  of  the  maidens 
of  these  days,  who  would  have  seen  that  this  seeming 
indifference  was  only  the  outer  circle  of  love,  which  was 
to  guard  and  hide  that  love  from  sight,  —  to  keep  it  sacred 
from  the  prying  eyes  of  the  world,  and  only  to  be  acknowl 
edged  to  her  at  the  proper  time.  She  did  not  think  of 
this  ;  and  so  many  a  night  she  wept  herself  to  sleep,  be 
cause  she  feared  that  Charlton  Mitchell,  whom  she  had 
known  from  her  childhood,  who  had  been  her  playmate  and 
companion  for  many  years,  and  her  warmest  admirer,  up 
to  the  very  day  he  had  gone  away  to  that  hateful  college, 
where  he  had  become  so  changed,  and  had  come  back  such 
a  different  person  from  what  he  formerly  was,  no  longer 
loved  her.  He  was  but  a  boy  when  he  left,  and  four  years 
had  made  a  man  of  him ;  still  she  could  not  see  why  he 
should  have  altered  in  his  relations  to  her.  Therefore  she 
wept,  because  she  thought  he  no  longer  cared  for  her  as  he 
once  had.  Now  I  must  acknowledge  that  it  would  have 


280  OUT   OF    TOWN. 

been  very  foolish  for  Ruth  thus  to  have  grieved,  had  it  not 
been  that  she  in  good  sooth  really  loved  him ;  and  though 
she  did  not  acknowledge  it,  even  to  herself,  and  moreover 
was  scarcely  aware  of  it,  yet  am  I  quite  certain  that  it 
was  so  —  else  why  did  her  little  heart  beat  so  fast  when 
she  heard  his  footsteps,  which  she  had  learnt  to  distinguish 
from  all  others  ?  why  did  she  bow  her  head  to  hide  her 
blushes,  when  his  name  was  casually  mentioned  ?  why 
did  her  bosom  heave  so  rapidly  when  he  spake  to  her? 
why  did  such  a  full  tide  of  joy  rush  over  her  whenever  he 
clasped  her  hand  ?  and  why  did  the  tears  start  to  her  eyes 
when  he  turned  away  from  her  ? 

"Though  I  never  knew,  my  children,  what  it  was,"  I 
said,  pausing  in  my  story,  "  to  have  a  woman  love  me, 
until  I  met  your  mother,"  —  "  Oh  !  "  said  my  wife,  interjec- 
tively,  —  "  yet  I  had  often  witnessed  a  woman's  love  for 
another,  and  quietly  marked  the  effects,  which  were  the 
same  as  those  that  little  Ruth  experienced. 

"  How  it  came  to  pass,"  I  proceeded,  "  that  Ruth  dis 
covered  Charlton  loved  her  was  in  this  wise  :  She  had,  for  a 
long  time,  found,  every  morning  when  she  arose,  a  bouquet 
of  wild  flowers  placed  upon  her  own  chair  in  the  arbor, 
though  she  could  not  imagine  who  had  laid  them  there. 
Morning  after  morning  she  arose  with  the  sun,  so  that  she 

~  o 

might  discover  the  mysterious  giver  ;  but  she  always  found 
the  flowers  there  before  her,  till  one  morning,  earlier  than 
xisual,  just  as  she  drew  back  the  bolt  of  the  outward  door, 
who  should  she  see  with  the  newly  gathered  flowers  in  his 
hand  but  Charlton  Mitchell.  It  was  too  late  to  retreat ;  he 
was  fairly  caught ;  so  he  quietly  gave  the  flowers  into  her 
own  hands,  at  the  same  time  murmuring  something  of 
which  only  the  words  "  Ruth "  and  "  childhood "  were 
distinguishable.  She  simply  uttered  his  name,  while  her 
bosom  heaved  and  her  heart  beat  to  a  happy  measure.  He 
took  her  hand  in  his  and  she  withdrew  it  not ;  he  looked 
upon  her  blushing  cheek  and  marked  her  downcast  eyes, 


OUT   OF   TOWN.  281 

and  as  he  pressed  his  lips  upon  her  soft  smooth  cheek,  her 
large  blue  eyes  looked  up  in  wonderment.  Then,  a  few 
whispered  words  —  a  pause  —  and  a  half-uttered  trembling 
"  yes  "  fell  upon  his  ear,  and  then,  why  then  —  he  had  won 
her." 

"  Oh !  I  'm  so  glad,"  exclaimed  Miss  Em.  "  I  was  afraid 
that  something  awful  would  happen  to  her." 

-  Why  ?  "  I  asked. 

•'  Well," —  and  Miss  Em.  hesitated,  —  "  because  you 
seemed  —  so  mamma  said,  you  know  —  in  such  a  bad 
humor,  and  told  such  naughty  things  about  us  women 
folks.-' 

u  '  Us  women-folks  '  is  good,  little  girl ;  you  are  getting 
over  girlhood  rapidly,"  I  said. 

"  Well,"  I  continued,  to  come  to  the  end  of  the  story,  for 
I  see  mamma  is  weary  of  it,  and  as  for  Miss  Floy,  she  has 
been  reading  a  book  all  the  time  I  was  telling  it,  while  you 
little  ones  are  just  as  sleepy  as  you  can  be." 

"  Oh,  no,  we  're  not,  papa,"  they  exclaimed. 

"  Do  make  it  as  long  as  you  can,"  said  Em.  "  I  like  it  so 
much." 

"  And  me,  too,"  said  little  Mary. 

The  boy,  however,  rolled  over  on  the  rug  before  the  fire, 
and  though  he  opened  first  one  and  then  the  other  eye, 
said  nothing,  and  immediately  thereafter  dropped  again 
to  sleep. 

'•  Xo,  it  won't  do,"  I  said,  "  to  make  it  much  longer.  I 
could  tell,  if  I  chose,  —  but  I  will  not,  —  how  jolly  Captain 
Tim  —  Quaker  though  he  was  —  danced  at  the  wedding. 
What  long  stories  he  told,  and  how  merry  he  got.  I  could 
describe  every  article  of  his  dress,  from  his  broad-brimmed 
hat  —  which  he  persisted  in  wearing  throughout  the  cere 
mony  —  down  to  the  round-toed  shoes,  with  their  silver 
buckles,  which  covered  his  feet.  I  could  inform  you  how 
his  wife,  Long  Sally,  forgot  to  scold  him  for  a  whole  week 
thereafter,  and  in  the  joy  of  her  heart,  did  that  which  she 


282  OUT  OF   TOWN. 

had  not  done  before  in  twenty-five  years,  —  kissed  him,  till 
the  tears  gushed  from  his  eyes,  and  he  made  a  vow,  that 
would  have  gladdened  the  heart  even  of  Uncle  Toby,  that 
his  wife  was  the  best  of  women  and  the  model  of  a  house 
keeper.  I  might  also  relate  how  the  bride  appeared,  in  a 
white  muslin  dress,  and  a  lace  cape  over  her  shoulders  ;  how 
her  glossy  hair  was  braided,  and  a  white  rose-bud  placed 
amid  it,  much  to  the  scandal  of  her  mother.  In  short,  I 
might  tell  all  about  the  wedding,  —  the  smiles,  the  tears, 
and  the  kisses,  the  words  of  congratulation  offered,  and  the 
kindly  thanks  returned.  But  I  will  say  no  more,  leaving 
it  to  you,  mamma,  and  to  you,  Miss  Floy,  and  to  you,  little 
ones,  to  imagine  it  all  as  best  you  may.  I  will  simply  add  that 
many  years  have  passed  since  that  happy  day,  and  jolly 
old  Captain  Tim,  with  his  long  stories  and  odd  jokes,  is  dead. 
His  wife,  Long  Sally,  has  also  gone  to  her  long  account. 
But  Charlton  Mitchell,  and  his  little  Ruth,  are  still  in  the 
land  of  the  living,  though  many  a  weary  day's  journey  from 
Woodbine  Cottage  ;  and  though  time  must  have  silvered  his 
head,  and  left  a  few  lines  upon  the  once  smooth  brow  of 
little  Ruth,  yet  their  hearts,  I  dare  say,  are  as  young  now 
as  they  were  thirty  years  ago ;  nor  have  they  forgotten,  I 
am  sure,  the  pleasant  period  of  their  youth." 

"  And  now,  my  little  ones,  this  closes  our  Christmas 
Nights  in  the  Library  ;  so  kiss  us  all  good-night,  and  go  to 
bed,  and  peace  be  with  you." 

And  they  kissed  good-night,  and  departed. 


OUT  OF  TOWN.  283 


CHAPTER  XLI. 

My  Old  Lady  asks  me  to  Tea.  —  How  Mrs.  Gray  dressed  me  for  the 
Occasion.  —  What  we  had  for  Tea. —  Touching  an  olden  Chord.  —  A 
China-closet.  — A  Punch-bowl.  —  A  Nosegay.  — Birds.  —  Keeping  Goats 
and  Bees.  —  The  Twenty-third  Psalui. 

;Y  old  lady  of  black-matan  memory  sent  me  an 
invitation,  a  few  days  since,  to  visit,  and  take  tea 
with,  her.  Of  course  I  accepted  her  invitation. 
It  is  regarded,  I  understand,  by  her  acquaintances  a  high 
honor  to  be  asked  by  her  to  tea,  as  it  is  a  repast  which 
she  always  herself  prepares  in  her  own  room.  Being  a 
widow,  she  lives  with  a  married  daughter,  but  has  her  own 
apartments,  of  which  she  takes  the  entire  charge.  Tea  is 
the  only  meal  she  takes  apart  from  the  family,  and  it  in 
variably  is  ready  at  exactly  four  o'clock,  both  in  summer 
and  in  winter.  As  it  is  only  the  privileged  few  whom  she 
invites  to  these  entertainments,  I  was  much  flattered  at  re 
ceiving  an  invitation.  Even  Mrs.  Gray  was  not  included 
in  the  request.  When  I  told  my  estimable  wife  of  it,  she 
declared  I  was  a  most  fortunate  individual,  and  she  quite 
envied  me  the  invitation.  I  think  Mrs.  Gray  perceives 
that  I  am  a  favorite  with  the  ladies,  —  especially  with  old 
ladies,  —  and,  doubtless,  she  wonders  if  I  will  ever  take  to 
flirting  with  them.  However  that  may  be,  she  was  very 
anxious,  on  this  occasion,  that  I  should  appear  as  well  as 
possible.  She  made  me  change  my  collar  three  times, 
before  I  found  one  that,  in  her  eyes,  "  set  well."  Then  she 
tied  my  cravat  with  her  own  hands  ;  and  playfully  suggested 
to  me,  while  doing  so,  the  propriety  of  my  wearing  a 
white  one,  such  as,  no  doubt,  the  old  lady's  husband 


281  OUT  OF  TOWN. 

had  worn  when  he  courted  her.  Mrs.  Gray  mischievously 
thought  it  might  be  pleasantly  suggestive  to  my  venerable 
friend. 

Aware  of  the  old  lady's  regard  for  punctuality,  I  entered 
her  rooms  precisely  at  the  moment  the  ancient  clock  stand 
ing  in  the  corner  struck  four.  At  the  same  instant  the 

•j 

maid  appeared,  beai'ing  the  tea-urn,  which  she  placed  upon 
the  table  ;  while  the  venerable  dame,  with  stately  courtesy, 
received  me,  and  motioned  me  to  a  seat  at  the  table.  I 
was  the  only  guest,  and  as  I  looked  at  the  prim  old  lady 
of  over  sixty  years,  and  remembered  that  many  gentlemen 
of  the  old  school  had  from  time  to  time  assembled  at  her 
hospitable  board,  I  confess  I  experienced  a  little  anxiety 
lest  I  might  not  appear  to  advantage.  I  felt  very  grateful 
to  Mrs.  Gray  for  the  pains  she  had  taken  in  fastening  my 
neck-tie,  and  in  brushing  the  lint  from  my  coat,  when  I 
kissed  her  farewell  in  the  hall. 

The  appearance  of  the  table  was  charming,  and  the 
meal  itself  most  delicious.  The  purest  of  damask  linen 
covered  the  table,  and  the  urn,  sugar-bowl,  and  cream-jug 
were  of  silver,  engraved  with  her  family's  crest.  The 
biscuits  were  light  and  Avhite,  and,  though  I  did  not  in 
quire,  were,  I  think,  made  by  the  old  lady  herself.  There 
were,  as  delicate  appetizers,  thinly  shaved  smoked  beef 
and  grated  cheese.  There  was  a  variety  of  preserves,  in 
cluding  East  India  ginger,  which  is  my  especial  favorite. 
The  tea  possessed  an  exquisite  flavor,  and  was  poured  into 
little  white  china  cups,  of  antique  shape,  with  blue  and 
gilt  edges,  and  golden  spots,  like  stars,  studded  over  them. 
The  monogram  "  "NY.  &  P.  C.,"  in  gilt,  in  the  centre  of 
each  piece,  was  surrounded  by  a  blue  border.  The  old 
lady  informed  me  that  this  china,  which  she  only  used  on 
notable  occasions,  had  been  brought  from  China  as  a  wed 
ding  gift,  more  than  fifty  years  ago,  by  her  late  husband, 
who  commanded  an  East  India  merchantman.  "  Poor, 
dear  William  !  "  she  continued ;  "  ten  days  after  our  mar- 


OUT  OF  TOWN.  285 

riage  lie  sailed  for  China,  and  I  never  saw  him  again. 
The  ship  was  not  heard  from  after  she  left  port ;  but 
whether  she  foundered  at  sea,  and  all  on  board  perished, 
or  was  attacked  by  pirates,  and  my  husband  and  the  crew 
murdered,  I  never  knew.  But  the  hour  cannot  be  far 
distant  when,  I  trust,  kind  sir,"  she  said,  "  the  mystery  will 
be  solved  to  me,  and,  in  the  other  world,  I  shall  rejoin  him 
from  whom  I  have  so  long  been  separated." 

"  Oh,"  I  said,  "  don't  speak  so  discouragingly.  You 
are  not  so  very  old ;  and  who  can  tell,  perhaps  you  may 
marry  again  ?  " 

"  No,"  she  replied,  "  that  can  never  be ;  though,  to  be 
sure,  stranger  things  sometimes  happen,  and  if  an  old 
beau  of  mine,  my  husband's  cousin,  should  ask  me  again 
to  be  his  wife,  it  might  come  to  pass." 

And  the  old  lady  sighed,  and  the  color  came  to  her 
faded  cheeks.  Without  meaning  to  do  so,  I  had  evidently 
touched  a  chord  in  her  breast  which  trembled  with  by 
gone  memories. 

After  tea,  she  opened  her  china-closet,  and  showed  me 
the  treasures  it  contained.  She  apparently  takes  much 
pride  in  her  store  of  old  china ;  and,  I  learn,  is  continually 
dusting  and  rearranging  it.  It  consists  of  several  sets  of 
tea,  coffee,  and  dinner  services.  Many  pieces  of  each, 
however,  have  been  broken  ;  but  their  value,  in  her  opin 
ion,  seem  to  have  increased  as  they  gradually  have  been 
broken  and  destroyed.  The  good  dame  possesses  a  won 
derful  memory,  and  gave  me  the  history  of  the  destruction 
of  each  piece.  Most  of  these  disasters  were  caused  by 
the  carelessness  of  servants  to  whom  she  had  foolishly, 
she  said,  intrusted  them  to  be  washed  and  put  into  their 
places. 

The  principal  attraction,  however,  in  her  china-closet  — 
to  me,  at  least  —  was  an  immense  punch-bowl,  capable  of 
holding  several  gallons  of  that  delectable  mixture.  The 

o  o 

figures  on  it  —  which  could  only  have  originated  in  the 


286  OUT  OF   TOWN. 

mind  of  a  Chinaman  —  consisted  of  outlandish-looking 
birds,  red,  blue,  and  yellow,  almost  as  large  as  the  fantasti 
cal  pagodas  over  which  they  were  represented  as  flying, 
having  evidently  been  urged  to  perform  this  act  by  sundry 
genteelly  dressed  ladies,  with  round  faces  and  little  feet, 
that  they  —  the  ladies,  I  mean  —  might  have  space  to 
open  the  very  large  parasols  they  held  over  their  heads, 
and  of  which  the  handles  apparently  were  a  mile  long.  A 
very  jolly  looking  sun,  on  the  point  of  going  down  behind 
a  blue  hill,  shone,  notwithstanding  the  umbrellas,  full  into 
the  faces  of  the  ladies,  and  must  have  caused  them  much 
annoyance.  Several  green  fishes  were  swimming  around 
in  the  atmosphere,  the  classification  of  which  would,  per 
haps,  puzzle  even  my  friend  Genio,  the  fisherman.  This 
bowl,  the  old  lady  said  she  would  leave  to  me  at  her  death, 
which  I  think  very  kind  in  her.  I  shall  prize  the  bowl, 
doubtless,  as  much  as  she  does.  I  have  not  failed  to 
notice  that  china  purchased  at  the  warehouses  never  ac 
quires  such  value  in  the  eyes  of  its  possessor,  as  that 
brought  home  from  the  East  by  a  husband,  a  brother,  or  a 
dear  friend.  I  am  disposed  to  believe,  therefore,  that  the 
pride  the  old  lady  has  in  her  china,  is  less  on  account  of 
its  intrinsic  value,  than  for  being  the  gift  of  the  husband 
who  sailed  for  India  and  never  returned. 

The  old  lady  has  also  a  great  partiality  for  plants. 
Next  to  her  china,  she  devotes  her  attention  chiefly  to  the 
cultivation  of  flowers.  She  has  a  plant-room  adjoining 
her  parlor,  containing  more  than  a  hundred  different 
plants,  growing  in  jars.  She  took  great  pleasure  in  point 
ing  out  the  choice  varieties,  and  plucked  for  me  a  nosegay 
of  the  sweetest  flowers  in  bloom.  She  gave  me  the  his 
tory  of  many  of  the  plants,  and  mentioned  their  names,  — 
most  of  which,  however,  I  have  forgotten.  I  remember, 
though,  the  pomegranate,  with  its  red,  waxlike  cup,  and 
Its  flower  of  the  same  color.  I  noticed  that  the  old  lady 
iked  best  those  flowers  whose  perfume  was  the  strongest, 


OUT  OF  TOWN.  287 

such  as  the  Cape-jessamine,  tuberose,  and  hyacinth.  She 
had  a  partiality,  she  said,  for  tulips,  lilies,  and  poppies,  which 
are  worthy  garden  flowers,  as  is  also  the  rose,  which  is  the 
queen  of  all  others.  She  was  old-fashioned  enough,  too,  she 
declared,  to  like  hollyhocks  and  sunflowers,  lilacs  and 
syringas.  Then  she  narrated  some  strange  stories  con 
cerning  the  instincts  her  plants  possessed  ;  and  she  solemnly 
declared  that  several  knew  when  she  approached  to  water 
them,  and  would  recognize  her  by  folding  their  leaves.  I 
think  she  said  these  were  called  sensitive-plants,  which,  I 
doubt  not,  they  are. 

Besides  her  china  and  flowers,  the  old  lady  has  still 
other  pets,  in  the  shape  of  birds.  Ten  or  twelve  cages 
hang  in  her  plant-room,  each  of  which  contains  one  or 
more  birds.  Most  of  these  are  canaries,  though  robins, 
mocking-birds,  and  Java  sparrows  are  to  be  found  there. 
Parrots  are  her  abomination.  She  has  several  stuffed 
birds  in  glass  cases,  —  old  favorites,  she  said,  raised  by  her 
from  the  nest.  She  did  not  take  as  great  an  interest  now 
in  her  birds  as  formerly ;  they  required  so  much  time  and 
care.  She  used  to  have  as  many  as  fifty  birds,  she  de 
clared  ;  but  twenty  was  all  she  had  at  present.  She 
thought  sometimes  that  she  would  give  up  all  her  birds, 
and  only  keep  her  plants  and  china.  "  But,"  she  con 
tinued,  '*  I  hope  this  will  never  come  to  pass,  and  that  I 
may  in  the  end  gently  fall  asleep  amidst  my  birds,  so  their 
singing  may  remind  me  of  the  songs  which  emanate  from 
angels  in  that  better  land,  where  I  pray  to  go  when  my 
life  here  is  ended." 

After  a  short  pause,  during  which  she  sat  with  folded 
hands,  she  said,  briskly,  that  she  missed  the  black-matan 
dog  ;  but  now  that  the  goat  was  gone,  —  "  And,  kind  sir," 
she  asked,  "  how  do  you  get  along  with  that  goat  ?  "  —  she 
did  not  know  that  she  regretted  having  disposed  of  him 
to  me. 

"  As  far  as  the  goat  is  concerned,"  I  said,  "  she  is  most 


288  OUT  OF   TOWX. 

salubrious  ;  and  now  that  the  cold  weather  has  set  in,  and 
there  is  little  temptation  for  her  to  scale  fences  in  pursuit 
of  provender,  she  is  much  less  addicted  than  she  was  to 
raids  of  that  nature." 

"  She  is  a  good  goat,"  said  the  old  lady,  "  and  yields 
her  milk  freely  to  any  hand  that  knows  how  to  milk  her. 
Have  you  learned  to  milk  her,  kind  sir  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  I  have,  most  estimable  old  lady."  I  replied.  "  but  I  can 
not  say  that  I  am  partial  to  the  operation.  I  have  tried 
now  both  keeping  goats  and  bees  ;  and  though  the  employ 
ment  may  be  of  a  pastoral  character,  and  you  may  even 
quote  .Scripture  in  praise  of  it,  yet  I  do  not  think  I  envy 
the  person  whose  lines  have  fallen  to  him  solely  in  a  land 
flowing  with  milk  and  honey." 

Thereupon  the  old  lady  said  that  she  thought  I  was 
right,  and  she  hoped  that  my  lines  would  not  fall  in  such 
a  land.  It  being  by  this  time  nearly  nine  o'clock,  and  as 
I  knew  that  the  old  lady  was  addicted  to  early  hours,  I 
rose  to  depart.  But  she  begged  me  to  be  seated,  as  she 
had  one  request  to  make  of  me,  which  she  trusted  I  would 
not  refuse. 

I  said  that  I  thought  she  might  safely  depend  upon  my 
obliging  her. 

So.  after  bringing  forth  a  dish  of  apples,  and  some  hick 
ory-nuts,  and  a  pitcher  of  cider,  of  which  we  partook  to 
gether,  she  asked  me  to  read  aloud  to  her  the  Twenty -third 
Psalm,  which  I  did,  and  then  bidding  her  good-night.  I 
took  my  leave.  As  I  went  down  the  stairs  I  heard  her 
repeating  to  herself,  —  "  Yea,  though  I  walk  through  the 
valley  of  the  shadow  of  death,  I  will  fear  no  evil ;  for 
thou  art  with  me  ;  thy  rod  and  thy  staff  comfort  me." 


OUT  OF   TOWN.  289 


CHAPTER    XLII. 

Growing  Old.  —  Youthful  Follies.  —  "In  a  Vineyard."  —  Fifty  Fears  ago. 
The  Old  Homestead.  —  The  Garden.— The  Garret.  —  Swallows.  —  In 
dignant. 

.  GRAY,  my  estimable  wife,  has  recently  hinted 
to  me  the  disagreeable  fact  that  I  am  some  years 
older  than  when  I  married  her.  She  says  sly 
wrinkles  are  creeping  around  my  eyes,  and  gray  hairs 
mingling  with  mv  flowing  locks.  I  fear  that  it  is  even 

o         o  *  o 

so,  and  that,  with  an  increasing  fondness  for  solid,  family 
dinners,  and  quiet  morning  calls,  and  a  growing  dislike  to 
picnics  and  crowded  evening  parties,  I  am  in  a  fair  way 
to  be  set  down,  before  the  season  is  over,  bv  dashincr  belles 

'          •/  O 

and  fast  youths,  as  a  respectable,  middle-aged  gentleman. 

The  thought  of  this,  I  must  confess,  is  somewhat  humil 
iating.  To  give  up  these  things  —  the  picnic,  the  ride, 
the  dance,  and  the  evening  promenade  —  of  my  own  free 
will,  because  they  have  grown  distasteful  to  me,  is  bad 
enough  ;  but  to  be  elbowed  out,  as  it  were,  from  all  these 
youthful  follies  by  younger  and  better-looking  men  than 
myself  —  or,  worse  still,  purposely  omitted  or  forgotten 
in  the  making  up  of  parties  — is,  to  such  a  sensitive  being 
as  myself,  really  cruel,  and  only  to  be  remedied  by  the 
companionship  of  my  savage  literary  friend  over  a  bottle 
of  champagne  and  a  box  of  cigars.  This  is  an  unfailing 
source  of  consolation,  and  often  serves  to  call  forth  pleas 
ant  reminiscences  of  times  past,  when  youth  and  pleasure 
went  hand  in  hand.  Sometimes,  under  the  spell  of  the 
blood  of  the  vine,  I  write  such  rhymes  as  this,  which  my 
friend  and  I  sing  joyfully  together. 
19 


290  OUT  OF  TOWN. 

IN  A  VINEYARD. 

I  'YE  drank  all  wines  that  earth  can  boast, 
And  of  them  all  I  love  the  most 

Champagne  that  brightly  gleams  ; 
The  laughing,  sparkling  wine  that  flows 
From  grapes  Charles  Hcidsieck  only  grows, 

In  vineyards  close  by  Rheims. 

In  the  delicious  harvest-time, 

I  wandered  through  the  mellow  clime 

Of  France,  so  warm  and  bright, 
And  marked,  within  a  vineyard's  bounds, 
The  lusty  gatherers  go  their  rounds, 

From  early  morn  till  night. 

As  crowns,  upon  their  heads  they  bore 
Great  baskets,  heaped  and  running  o'er 

With  grapes  of  purple  hue  ; 
Beneath  which  shone,  through  waving  curls, 
The  blooming  cheeks  of  peasant  girls, 

With  eyes  of  black  or  blue. 

And  merry,  stalwart,  sun-bronzed  men, 
Drawing  full  wains,  would,  now  and  then, 

Shouts  songs  in  Bacchus'  praise. 
Oh,  rare  the  wine  that  then  was  made, 
And  blest  the  vineyard's  sun  and  shade, 

In  those  delightful  days  ! 

The  wine  was  Heidsieck's  best  champagne, 
And  o'er  the  vineyard  did  he  reign, 

Its  owner  and  its  lord  : 

Then,  drink  the  gallant  Frenchman's  health  — 
May  never  fail  his  crops  nor  wealth  ! 

Hip !  hip  !  with  one  accord. 

After  reading  the  above  to  Mrs.  Gray,  she  wished  to 
know  when  it  was  that  I  visited  France,  for  she  never  had 
heard  me  speak  of  it  before. 

"  It  is  many  years  ago,"  I  replied ;  "  long  before  I  knew 
you,  Mrs.  Gray,  and  when  there  were  no  wrinkles  or  gray 
hairs  to  annoy  me." 


OUT  OF  TOWN.  291 

"  How  many  years  since  did  you  say,  Mr.  Gray  ?  "  she 
inquired. 

"  Less  than  fifty,  my  dear,"  I  answered ;  "  but  to  look 
back  to  those  days  always  fills  me  with  regret." 

"  Why  so,  Mr.  Gray  ?  " 

"  Because  you,  my  dear,  was  not  with  me  to  enjoy  them." 

Mrs.  Gray  shook  her  head  at  me,  and  gave  me  to  un 
derstand  that  she  regarded  me  in  the  light  of  a  humbug. 
Dear  woman  !  I  fear  she  has  not  that  confidence  in  my 
veracity  which  as  a  wife  she  ought  to  possess. 

"  Speaking  of  fifty  years  ago,  Mr.  Gray,"  she  added, 
after  a  pause,  "  reminds  me  that  you  promised  to  tell  me 
something  concerning  your  early  life  and  home.  Can  you 
not  relate  this  to  me  now  ?  " 

"  Certainly,  my  dear,  if  you  desire  it,"  I  replied ;  and 
then,  giving  the  fire  a  thrust  with  the  steel  poker,  till  the 
sparks  flew  up  the  chimney,  and  the  ashes  out  into  the 
room,  I  gave  my  wife  this  description  of  my  old  home 
stead  :  — 

"  Many  years  ago,  Mrs.  Gray,  —  so  many,  indeed,  that 
it  would  sadly  puzzle  your  youthful  head  to  remember, 
—  there  stood,  a  little  back  from  the  main  street  of  my 
native  village,  an  old  wooden  tenement,  whose  faded 
paint,  broken  windows,  and  unhinged  shutters  spoke 
plainly  of  desertion  and  decay.  The  walk  leading  from 
the  street  up  to  the  wide  hall-door  was  grass-grown,  and 
rank  May-weeds  forced  their  way  through  the  crevices  in 
the  pavement.  The  thick  growth  of  trees  and  bushes  that 
surrounded  the  house,  and  the  full-leaved  woodbine  that 
clambered  over  its  southern  exposure,  even  to  the  tops  of 
the  chimneys,  gave  a  somewhat  cheerful  aspect  to  an  other 
wise  gloomy  mansion.  A  heavy  cornice,  worm-eaten  and 
broken,  ran  around  the  top  of  the  building,  which  was  sur 
rounded  by  a  balustrade,  ornamented  with  wooden  urns  and 
balls.  The  house  was  two  stories  high,  and  built  after  the 
manner  of  country  houses  a  hundred  years  ago,  with  a 


292  OUT  'OF  TOWN. 

wide  hall  running  through  the  centre,  flanked  on  each  side 

O  O 

by  two  large  square  rooms.  Additions,  however,  had,  as 
the  years  moved  on,  been  made  by  the  generations  that 
successively  occupied  it,  and  wings  had  been  added  to 
each  side  at  different  times,  and  to  the  rear  out-houses  in 
numerable  had  been  attached. 

"  This  house  my  grandfather  had  built,  and  in  it  both 
my  father  and  myself  were  born.  Shortly  after  my  birth, 
however,  my  mother,  who  was  still  youthful,  —  a  little 
older,  perhaps,  than  you,  Mrs.  Gray,  are  now,  —  persuaded 
my  father  to  erect  at  the  further  end  of  the  garden  — 
which  extended  back  some  two  hundred  feet,  unto  a  new 
and  fashionable  street  —  another  and  more  modern  man 
sion  than  the  old  one.  There,  within  sight  of  the  time- 
worn  homestead,  and  only  separated  from  its  grounds  by  a 
low  picket-fence,  was  my  boyhood  passed.  After  I  got 
to  running  alone,  it  became  a  common  occurrence  for  me 
to  make  my  way  to  the  old  house,  and  climbing  through 
a  low  window,  ramble  for  hours  in  the  deserted  rooms,  and 
up  and  down  the  creaking  staircase.  Often,  when  night 
came,  and  my  absence  from  the  nursery  was  noticed,  and 
all  search  for  me  about  the  new  house  had  proved  unsuc 
cessful,  I  would  be  found  stretched  upon  a  dusty  chest,  in 
the  garret  of  the  old  house,  fast  asleep. 

"  This  rambling  about  the  deserted  mansion  had  a 
charm  for  me  I  could  never  understand ;  and  the  in 
fluence  which  those  silent  and  solitary  chambers  exerted 
upon  my  boyish  mind  has  been  felt  by  me  through  life. 
Naturally  of  a  retiring  disposition,  as  you,  my  dear,  are 
aware,  and  caring  little  for  the  companionship  of  boys,  but 
loving  better  to  indulge  in  solitary  dreamings,  these  silent 
communings  with  my  own  childish  thoughts,  in  the  midst 
of  dust,  gloom,  and  cobwebs,  failed  not  of  having  an  ef 
fect  on  my  life.  They  influenced  me  to  keep  aloof  from 
my  fellows,  not  from  pride,  but  because  I  felt  myself  un 
fitted  to  enter  cordially  into  their  feelings.  Half  poet, 


OUT  OF  TOWN.  293 

half  dreamer,  I  passed  through  life  till  I  was  twenty, 
knowing  little  of  men  or  women.  After  the  death  of  my 
father,  which  occurred  when  I  was  about  twelve  years  old, 
my  mother  retired  from  the  gayeties  of  life,  and  seldom 
visited  or  received  visitors.  Educated  at  home,  and  solely 
under  her  care  till  I  entered  college,  it  is  not  strange  that 
I,  at  times,  even  now,  shrink  from  mingling  with  man 
kind." 

Mrs.  Gray  here  interrupted  me,  and  said  she  had  never 
noticed  such  sensitiveness  in  my  character.  It  is  evident 
to  me  that  my  wife  is  still  deficient  in  her  knowledge  of 
me.  I  continued  :  — 

"  From  my  earliest  childhood,  Mrs.  Gray,  up  to  the  day 
I  left  my  fond  mother  for  my  Alma  Mater,  the  old  home 
stead  was  my  chosen  resort ;  there  I  dreamed  my  child 
hood  away ;  there  I  learnt  my  boyhood's  lessons,  and 
studied  my  Latin  and  Greek ;  there,  too,  I  learned  to  write 
in  rhyme,  and  there  I  wept  silent  tears  over  my  youthful 
grievances,  and  bethought  me  of  what  I  would  do  when  T 
became  a  man.  Ah !  Mrs.  Gray,  that  old  homestead, 
though  years  have  passed  since  I  last  saw  it,  is  as  clearly 
pictured  in  my  memory  as  though  it  was  only  yesterday  I 
left  it.  The  swallows,  even  now,  while  I  speak,  are,  doubt 
less,  flying  in  and  out  of  its  garret  windows  and  unused 
chimneys,  as  I  have  watched  them  do  in  the  summer  even 
ings  long  since  past." 

"  Do  swallows  fly  in  December,  Mr.  Gray  ? "  asked  my 
wife,  "  in  the  part  of  the  country  where  that  old  tumble 
down  house  is  located  ?  " 

"  Perhaps  not,"  I  replied ;  "  but  they  will,  my  dear, 
when  summer  comes."  And  then,  indignant  at  Mrs.  Gray, 
I  refused  to  add  another  word. 


294  OUT  OF  TOWN. 


CHAPTER  XLIII. 

My  Wife  receives  a  Present.  —  Captain  Coffin,  of  the  Ship  Fleetwing.  — 
The  Vale  of  Cashmere.  —  Shawls.  —  Going  to  Church.  —  "  Ship  ahoy." 
The  Cabin.  —  A.  C.  H.  Official.  —  Old  Jamaica  cold  vs.  Old  Ja-mai- 
ca  hot.  —  Ham,  Turkey,  and  Olives.  —  Kittens.  —  India  Shawls.  — 
His  Daughters  not  my  Wife.  —  That  Monkey.  —  A  Bengal  Tiger.  — 
Our  Menagerie.  —  Simia  Sinica.  —  The  Bonnet  Monkey.  —  Going  Home. 
Call  a  Coach.  —  A  Delight.  —  A  Disappointment.  —  An  Iconoclast.  — 
Nuts  and  Candies.  —  A  Surprise.  —  An  old  Battered  Hulk.  —  A  dear, 
good  Old  Man.  —  Stopping  Grog.  —  Astonishing.  —  Household  Pets. 

( Y  wife  received,  recently,  a  present.  It  came  from 
a  gay  and  festive  sea-captain,  a  widower,  a  second 
or  third  cousin  of  mine,  whose  ship  just  arrived 
home  from  India.  The  captain's  name  is  Coffin,  and  he 
hails  from  Nantucket ;  at  least  he  did  hail  from  there  when 
a  lad  ;  but  that  was  fifty  years  ago,  and  now  he  "  stops," 
when  on  shore,  —  which,  however,  is  but  seldom,  for  his 
life  is  chiefly  spent  "  on  board  ship,"  —  in  New  York. 
When  his  ship  came  alongside  the  pier,  No.  40  East  River, 
one  day  last  week,  he  sent  a  messenger  to  me  to  give  me 
notice  of  his  arrival,  and  to  inform  me  that  he  had  brought 
a  present  from  India  for  Mrs.  Gray. 

When  I  went  home  and  told  my  wife  of  the  old  sea- 
king's  arrival,  and  that  he  had  brought  her  home  a  present, 
she  immediately  said  it  must  be  a  shawl,  an  India  shawl, 
from  the  Vale  of  Cashmere. 

"Ah,"  I  said,  "I  have  heard  of  the  Vale  of  Cash 
mere,  — 

'  With  its  roses  the  brightest  that  earth  ever  gave, 
Its  temples,  and  grottos,  and  fountains  as  clear 
As  the  love-lighted  eyes  that  hang  over  their  wave  ; 

but  I  don't  know  much  about  its  shawls." 


OUT  OF  TOWN.  293 

"  Now,  I  do,"  said  my  wife,  "  and  the  shawls  made  in 
that  valley  are  the  finest  known.  They  are  manufactured 
of  the  inner  hair  of  the  goat  raised  on  the  table-lands  of 
Thibet,  and  are  worth  their  weight  in  gold." 

"  Good  !  "  I  exclaimed ;  "  but  what  makes  you  think  that 
the  captain  has  brought  you  one  of  these  shawls  ?  " 

"  Because,"  replied  the  dear  woman,  "  when  he  was  here, 
three  years  ago,  he  said  I  ought  to  have  one." 

"  Well,"  I  said,  "  I  hope  you  will  not  be  disappointed ; 
but  you  build  your  hopes  on  a  very  slight  foundation. 
However,  we  will  see." 

The  next  day  being  stormy,  I  had  decided  not  to  go 
to  town ;  but  my  wife  urged  me  so  strongly  to  go,  so 
that  I  might  bring  her  shawl  home  that  afternoon,  I 
consented.  She  said  she  was  fearful  that  the  captain 
would  give  it  away  to  one  of  his  daughters,  if  I  neglected 
to  go  for  it. 

Besides,  she  had  an  idea  that  he  had  come  home  now  to 
stay  for  good  ;  "  and  when  captains,"  she  continued,  "  who 
have  been  all  their  lives  at  sea,  come  home  to  remain,  what 
is  it  a  sign  of  ?  " 

"Why,  that  they  are  not  going  to  sea  again,"  I  an 
swered.  ' 

"  True,"  she  replied,  "  and  it  further  is  a  sign  that  they 
are  going  to  get  married." 

"  Nonsense  !  "  I  said  ;  "  what  put  that  into  your  head  ?  " 

"  Because,  the  last  time  he  was  home,  he  said  he  believed 
he  would  make  one  more  voyage,  and  then  settle  down  in 
life." 

"  Oh,  that 's  nothing,"  I  replied.  "  He  meant  nothing  by 
that." 

"  Well,  you  '11  see,"  she  said,  "  and  I  've  made  up  my 
mind  who  his  wife  will  be." 

«  Who  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  Never  mind  who,"  she  said  ;  "  but  you  '11  see,  and  that 
before  many  days  have  gone  by.  But  don't  you  fail  to  go 


296  OUT  OF   TOWN. 

to  town  to-day  to  get  that  shawl,  or  he  '11  be  sure  to  give 
it  to  Mrs.  —  —  I  sha'n't  tell  you  who  —  but  somebody." 

I  think  the  truth  was,  that,  as  it  was  Saturday,  my  wife 
wished  the  shawl  to  wear  to  church  the  following  day. 

"  If,"  I  said,  "  that  honest  old  captain  has  brought  home 
a  shawl  for  you,  he  will  not  be  likely  to  give  it  to  any  one 
else." 

"  Not  to  either  of  his  daughters,  think  you,"  she  asked, 
"  if  she  should  say  she  desired  it  ?  " 

"  No,"  I  replied  ;  "  for,  the  probability  is,  that  they  each 
have  one  already,  or  that  he  has  also  brought  some  home 
for  them.  Besides,  the  captain's  daughters,  as  I  happen 
to  know,  are  living  in  Nantucket,  and  could  not  readily 
get  to  New  York  before  next  week.  But,  notwithstand 
ing  that,  I  will  go  in  town,  since  you  wish  it,  and  pay  the 
captain  a  visit  on  board  his  vessel.  Still,  you  must  not  be 
greatly  disappointed  if  I  come  home  without  the  wished- 
for  shawl.'' 

I  went  to  town.  In  the  afternoon  I  waded  down  to  the 
pier  through  the  mud  and  slush,  and,  after  much  trouble, 
found  the  good  ship  Fleetwing.  Why  are  ships  always 
termed  good  ?  Being  a  stormy  day,  the  process  of  unlad 
ing  was  not  going  on,  and  comparative  quietude  brooded 
over  the  old  vessel,  as  if  she  were  resting  from  her  lono- 

O  O 

voyage.  The  captain,  however,  was  pacing  to  and  fro  on 
the  upper  deck,  in  a  somewhat  meditative  mood,  keeping  an 
eye,  however,  on  the  scudding  clouds,  the  fickle  wind,  and 
the  Custom-house  officer  engaged  in  drinking  old  Jamaica, 
down  in  the  cabin.  The  captain  failed  to  see  me  until, 
passing  up  the  gang-plank  stretching  along  the  side  of  the 
ship  from  the  wharf  to  the  deck,  my  form  appeared  above 
the  bulwarks.  As  our  eyes  met,  — 

"  Ship  ahoy ! "  I  cried. 

"  Ship  ahoy  !  yourself,  you  lubber,"  he  answered. 
"  Bother  me,"  he  continued,  wringing  my  hand  with  a 
grip  of  iron,  '•  if  it  is  n't  curious !  Here  was  I,  this  very 


OUT   OF   TOWN.  297 

moment,  wishing  for  you,  and  wondering  what  kept  you 
away.  Come,  let 's  go  below." 

The  cabin  of  the  Fleetwing,  though  small,  is  comfort 
able,  and  even  handsome.  There  is  much  panelling  in  it 
of  polished  bird's-eye  maple,  surrounded  with  gilt  beading, 
and  lighted  from  above  with  stained  glass  skylights. 
Through  the  doors  of  several  state-rooms  opening  from  it  I 
saw,  draping  the  berths,  yellow  satin  curtains,  looped  up 
with  great  yellow  twisted  silk  tassels,  and  revealing  be 
tween  them  the  white  counterpanes  covering  the  beds.  An 
air  of  neatness  and  cleanliness  pervaded  the  cabin,  and  on 
the  rack  above  the  mahogany  table  at  which  I  seated  my 
self  was  a  display  of  gleaming  goblets,  suggestive  of  many 
pleasant  drinks.  On  the  table  a  cold  boiled  ham  and  a 
roasted  turkey,  a  dish  of  sardines,  some  olives,  and  bread 
and  butter,  were  equally  suggestive  of  a  pleasant  lunch. 
The  fact  is,  the  captain,  when  in  port,  always  keeps  his 
table  spread  "  with  a  plate  ready,"  as  he  says,  "  for  any 
guest  who  may  come  alongside." 

The  Custom-house  official,  who  appeared  to  be  a  good 
honest  fellow,  excused  himself  for  not  rising  by  candidly 
stating  to  me  that  he  considered  himself  incapable  of  so 
doing,  as  he  had,  by  the  express  orders  of  the  captain,  been 
sitting  at  that  table  since  eight  o'clock,  indulging  in  ham 
and  Jamaica  cold.  Considering  the  number  of  empty 
bottles  which  stood  before  him,  I  came  to  the  conclusion 
that  but  few  men,  under  like  circumstances,  could  have 
made  as  sensible  a  remark  as  he  did,  and  who  would  not 
have  been  found  under,  instead  of  sitting  at,  the  table, 
after  so  many  hours  had  elapsed.  His  time  came,  however, 
immediately  after  drinking  a  couple  of  Old  Jamaicas  hot 
and  spiced,  which  the  captain  ordered,  when  he  retired  in 
good  order,  assisted  by  the  cabin-boy,  to  the  nearest  state 
room. 

"  That  fellow,"  said  the  captain,  confidentially,  "  is  a  pretty 
fair  drinker,  considering  he  has  been  in  the  Custom-house 


298  OUT  OF   TOWN. 

only  three  or  four  years ;  but  he  don't  do  it  scientifically. 
He  eats  too  much  ham,  and  don't  swallow  enough  olives. 
Let  me  give  you  another  slice  of  turkey,  my  boy.  I  won't 
crowd  you  on  the  Jamaica,  —  though  I  think  you  had  better 
take  another  glass,  —  for  I  know  your  good  wife  and 
children  will  expect  you  home  to-night.  And  that  reminds 
me  I  have  a  present  for  your  wife.  I  had  a  good  deal  of 
trouble  in  getting  it  here,  for  everybody  on  board  ship 
wanted  it ;  but  no,  I  said,  that  is  for  my  cousin's  wife, 
who  knows  how  to  appreciate  it.  I  had  n't  forgot,  you 
see,  those  lively  little  kittens  with  which  your  wife  and 
the  children  used  to  play  so  cheerily  when  I  was  last  in 
port.  And  when  I  saw  how  their  antics  amused  her,  I 
made  up  my  mind  that  I  would  bring  her  something  from 
foreign  parts  that  would  take  the  fur  off  of  those  kittens 
in  no  time."  What  an  India  shawl  had  to  do  with  our 
kittens,  which  became  cats  long  ago,  I  could  n't  imagine; 
but,  as  a  wise  man  should,  I  held  my  peace. 

Thereupon  the  captain  called  the  cabin-boy  and  ordered 
him  to  bring  to  him  something  ;  but  what  it  was  I  did  not 
hear. 

"  Now,"  said  the  captain,  "  go  with  me  into  my  state 
room,  and  let  me  show  you  some  pretty  things  I  have  in 
my  chest."  And  we  went. 

Then  the  captain  drew  forth  from  the  inmost  recesses  of 
his  chest  a  carefully  folded  package,  and,  upon  opening  it, 
revealed  several  India  shawls,  rich  in  pattern  and  of  a 
fabulous  price. 

"  There,"  said  the  bluff  old  captain,  "  are  three  shawls, 
which  I  brought  home  for  three  of  the  best  women  in  the 
Union,  —  my  three  girls." 

"  His  daughters  ! "  I  thought.  "  Alas  !  how  disappointed 
my  poor  wife  will  be." 

My  interest  in  the  shawls  greatly  abated  when  I  learned 
for  whom  they  were  intended. 

"  But  which  one,"  asked  the  captain,  "  do  you  think  the 
handsomest  ? " 


OUT  OF  TOWN.  299 

I  pointed  it  out. 

"  The  very  one,"  he  continued,  "  which  I  selected  for 
Jennie,  who  was  named  after  my  poor  wife.  But  here 
comes  the  boy  with  the  present  for  Mrs.  Gray.  Talk 
about  the  fun  in  kittens  !  Why,  that  monkey  will  beat 
them  all." 

"  A  monkey ! "  I  exclaimed,  in  despair  ;  "  that  will  be  a 
nice  thing  to  take  home  to  my  wife." 

"  I  'm  glad  you  like  it,"  said  the  captain  ;  "  for,  to  confess 
the  truth,  I  was  a  little  doubtful  as  to  whether  you  and 
your  wife  would  appreciate  it." 

"  Appreciate  it !  "  I  echoed.  "  My  dear  friend,  nothing, 
of  course,  could  have  pleased  us  better,  except,  perhaps,  a 
regular  Bengal  tiger,  fresh  from  his  native  jungles." 

"  You  don't  say  so  ?  "  cried  the  captain,  innocently,  and 
in  a  self-reproaching  tone.  "  My  dear  boy,  drown  me 
if  I  don't  bring  you  one  on  my  next  return  voyage." 

"  For  Heaven's  sake  ! "  I  said,  "  don't  put  yourself  out  to 
get  one.  I  think  we  will  get  along  well  enough,  at  Wood 
bine  Cottage,  with  the  monkey,  without  troubling  you  to 
add  to  our  menagerie." 

"  ]STo,  no,"  said  the  captain,  "  I'll  do  it  for  you  ;  and  when 
Captain  Coffin  gives  his  word,  you  may  be  certain  he'll 
never  break  it.  That  kind  of  thing  don't  run  in  the 
family." 

All  this  time  the  monkey  stood  in  the  cabin  chattering 
and  snapping  at  the  boy,  who  held  him  by  a  chain,  and 
against  whom,  as  I  afterward  learned,  he  entertained  the 

O 

utmost  dislike,  on  account  of  sundry  cruel  acts  of  the  boy 
towards  him. 

The  moment,  however,  that  he  heard  the  captain's  voice 
calling  him  "  Bonney,"  —  a  name  given  to  him  on  account 
of  his  having  what  appears  like  a  sort  of  bonnet,  and 
which  was  an  abbreviation  of  that  word,  —  he  became 
quiet,  and  the  boy  loosing  him,  he  sprung  toward  the  cap 
tain,  jumped  upon  his  shoulder,  and  commenced  pulling 
his  whiskers. 


300  OUT  OF  TOWN. 

The  species  of  this  monkey  or  ape  is  the  Macaque,  and 
is  known  among  naturalists  as  the  simia  sinica.  His  color 
is  brown,  but  on  the  upper  part  of  the  head  is  a  portion  of 
white,  which  diverges  outward  in  a  raylike  form.  The 
face  is  flesh-colored,  and  the  under  surface  of  the  body 
white.  He  is  only  about  a  foot  and  a  half  in  height,  and 
is,  so  the  captain  assured  me,  most  teachable  as  well  as 
mischievous. 

The  captain  caused  him  to  go  through  many  of  the 
tricks  which  he  had  taught  him,  until  at  last,  notwithstand 
ing  my  disappointment,  I  began  to  get  quite  interested  in 
the  little  rascal,  and  consoled  myself  by  thinking  that  the 
children,  at  least,  would  be  more  delighted  with  that  mon 
key  than  if  their  mother  had  received  the  costliest  of  shawls. 

As  it  was  getting  late,  I  told  the  captain  I  would  have  to 
go,  and  that  I  would  try  to  send  for  the  monkey  on  Mon 
day,  as  it  would  be  impossible  for  me  to  take  him  myself. 

"  Nonsense  !  "  cried  the  captain  ;  "  I  had  a  nice  little  tin 
cage  made  for  him,  into  which  you  can  put  him,  and  then, 
tucking  it  under  your  arm,  walk  off." 

"  No,"  I  said  ;  "  it 's  snowing,  and  that  monkey  will  catch 
his  death-cold,  if  exposed  to  the  night  air." 

"  Bosh  ! "  exclaimed  the  captain  ;  "  I  '11  call  a  coach,  and 
then  you  can  both  ride  up  to  the  cars  in  comfort." 

"  Why,"  I  said,  half  to  myself  and  half  aloud,  "  do  cap 
tains  in  port  always  call  coaches  if  they  want  to  go  a  block 
or  two?" 

"  I  suppose,"  said  the  captain,  in  the  same  aside  voice, 
"  it  is  because  we  have  always  our  sea-legs  on,  and  we 
don't  like  to  expose  our  professional  character  to  land 
lubbers." 

The  coach  was  called,  and  then,  to  my  surprise,  the  cap 
tain  insisted  upon  seeing  me  safely  home  to  Woodbine 
Cottage.  I  think  he  was  afraid  that  I  would  make  away 
with,  or  in  some  manner  dispose  of,  that  monkey  before  I 
reached  home,  unless  he  accompanied  me  as  a  kind  of 


OUT   OF  TOWN.  301 

special  policeman.  It  could  not  be  that  he  regarded  me 
as  being  under  the  influence  of  Jamaica  hot  and  spiced, 
for  my  libations  in  that  line  had  been  neither  frequent  nor 
deep.  As  I  showed  by  my  manner  that  the  present  was 
not  over  acceptable,  he  thought,  perhaps,  that  I  might  dis 
pose  of  his  pet  to  some  itinerant  organ-grinder. 

So  home  we  together  went.  The  old  captain  in  the  jol- 
liest  of  spirits,  and  I  somewhat  disposed  to  be  snappish. 
I  knew  that  my  wife  had  set  her  heart  upon  having  a 
shawl,  a  real  Cashmere,  and  now  to  appear  before  her  with 
a  monkey  instead,  did  n't  seem  to  me  to  be  a  pleasant 
thing. 

Had  I  gone  to  the  cars  alone,  I  should  probably  have 
stopped  in  Broadway  and  bought  some  little  gift  for  my 
wife  ;  but,  somehow,  with  the  captain  beside  me,  spinning 
all  kinds  of  sailor  yarns,  and  the  monkey  chattering  on  the 
opposite  seat,  this  good  intention  of  mine  was  quite  for 
gotten,  until  we  were  entering  the  door  of  my  house.  Of 
course  it  was  then  too  late. 

My  wife  met  us  in  the  hall.  She  received  the  captain 
warmly,  and  allowed  the  old  rascal  to  kiss  her  cheek. 
When  the  monkey  was  brought  forward,  the  little  ones 
were  delighted  with  him,  and  soon  had  him  out  of  his 
cage  ;  but  immediately,  frightened  by  the  unaccustomed 
noise,  he  sprung  to  the  top  of  one  of  the  bookcases,  knock 
ing  down,  in  so  doing,  a  couple  of  Rogers's  statuettes, 
which  were  broken  to  pieces  on  the  floor.  There  he  sat, 
chattering  and  grinning,  until  coaxed  down  by  the  captain, 
who,  for  safety,  put  him  back  into  his  cage.  Then  my 
little  boy  stuck  a  finger  through  the  bars,  and  the  monkey 
nipped  it.  Then  the  boy  cried,  and  the  captain  scolded 
the  monkey,  interlarding  it  with  a  sea-oath  or  two,  and  the 
monkey  scolded  back.  Then  my  wife  declared  that  she 
would  n't  have  such  a  pest  in  the  house,  and  hoped  that  the 
captain,  when  he  went,  would  carry  him  back  with  him  to 
town. 


302  OUT  OF   TOWN. 

In  the  mean  time,  taking  me  quietly  aside,  the  dear 
woman  had  asked  me  where  was  the  shawl,  and  I  was 
obliged  to  tell  her  that  the  captain  had  brought  no  shawl 
for  her,  but  that  the  monkey  was  the  present.  The  disap 
pointment  of  my  wife  was  sad  to  observe,  but  she  bore 
up  under  it  bravely;  and  though  her  eyes  grew  just  a  trifle 
moist,  and  the  lips  quivered  just  a  little  bit,  she  soon 
looked  up  at  me  smilingly,  and  the  above  observation  of 
hers,  in  regard  to  the  captain  carrying  the  monkey  back 
again  to  the  ship,  was  all  that  she  allowed  herself  to  ex 
press  of  her  disappointment. 

Then  we  had  dinner,  and  the  captain  felt  very  happy, 
and  recalled  former  occasions  when  we  had  met,  as  now, 
about  the  social  board.  The  monkey  got  quieted,  and, 
after  dinner,  allowed  the  little  ones  to  feed  him,  and,  after 
a  while,  was  let  out  of  his  cage  again,  without  committing 
any  serious  act  of  mischief,  except  slinging  the  cat,  who 
incautiously  ventured  into  the  room  to  take  a  look  at  the 
stranger,  through  a  pane  of  glass,  out  into  the  garden. 

When  the  little  ones  —  who  had  eaten  their  fill  of  can 
dies  and  nuts,  which  the  captain  obtained  from  the  capa 
cious  pockets  of  his  overcoat,  hanging  in  the  hall  —  had 
kissed  all  around  and  gone  to  bed,  and  only  we  three  — 
for  Miss  Floy  was  in  the  nursery,  hearing  the  children  say 
their  prayers,  which  they  did  as  well  as  they  could  for  the 
sugar-plums  in  their  mouths  —  were  seated  before  the 
blazing  fire,  enjoying  the  warmth  and  steaming  cups  of 
tea,  and  talking  Christmas  talk,  the  old  captain  made  one 
more  visit  to  his  overcoat,  and,  returning  therefrom,  placed 
a  package  in  my  wife's  hands,  which  proved,  when  she 
opened  it,  to  be  what  ever  since  I  had  seen  the  captain 
striving  to  conceal  it  in  the  cars  under  his  coat,  I  had 
hoped  it  would,  —  a  shawl  from  the  Vale  of  Cashmere,  — 
the  duplicate  of  the  one  I  regarded  as  the  handsomest. 

My  wife's  eyes  sparkled,  her  lips  smiled,  though  she  said 
nothing,  but  simply  took  the  old  captain's  hand  in  hers. 


OUT  OF   TOWN.  303 

"  You  old  battered  hulk,  you,"  I  exclaimed,  "  I  might 
have  known  you  were  humbugging  me.  You  are  always 
teasing  people  in  this  way.  What  a  life  you  must  lead 
your  sailors  out  at  sea !  I  would  n't  be  one  of  them  for 
the  world." 

"  And  I  would  n't  have  you  one  of  'em  for  a  good  many 
worlds.  What  could  you  do  aboard  ship,  I  'd  like  to  know  ? 
I  'd  have  to  stop  your  grog  and  rope's-end  you  every  day 
through  the  entire  voyage.  You  'd  do  no  more  work  than 
a  monkey." 

"  Hang  your  monkey !  "  I  said  ;  "  the  best  thing  you  can 
do  for  him  is  to  take  him  back  to  Calcutta;  for  if  you 
leave  him  here,  I  '11  send  him  to  join  Barnum's  '  Happy 
Family.' " 

"  Not  exactly,  Mr.  Gray,"  said  my  wife ;  "  remember  he 
is  not  yours  to  give  away ;  he  is  mine,  and  we  will  keep 
him  here,  and  call  him  Captain,  after  our  dear,  good  old 
friend  here." 

"It  is  astonishing,"  I  said,  "what  a  difference  the  present 
of  a  shawl  can  make  in  the  feelings  of  a  woman,  A  few 
minutes  ago  you  yourself  had  requested  the  captain  to  take 
him  back  to  town." 

"  That  was  because  he  bit  the  little  boy,"  she  replied. 
"  When  he  becomes  acquainted  with  the  children  he  won't 
bite  or  annoy  them  in  any  way,  —  will  he  ?  " 

"  No,"  answered  the  captain ;  "  he  '11  be  quite  like  a  lamb 
in  a  few  days,  and  I  know  the  little  ones  will  be  delighted 
with  his  antics." 

And  so  it  was  resolved  that  the  monkey  should  remain, 
and  become  one  of  the  household  pets.  Although  only  a 
few  days  have  passed  since  he  came  among  us,  he  has 
already  become  the  terror  of  our  two  cats,  the  enemy  of 
the  dogs  Gumbo  and  Jack,  Sinbad  the  Sailor's  old  man  to 
the  goat,  the  annoyance  of  our  neighbors,  and  the  iconoclast 
and  something  more  to  Woodbine  Cottage. 


304  OUT  OF   TOWN 


CHAPTER  XLIV. 

Woodbine  Cottage  is  invited  to  a  Wedding. —  The  Happy  Couple.  —My 
Old  Lady  and  the  Captain. — Mrs.  Gray's  Suspicions. — Alongside. — 
The  Cherub  aloft.  —  A  Black  Bottle.  —A  Wedding  Present.  —  Sunday 
Morning.  —  No  Nonsense.  —  Silvery  Locks  and  Youthful  Hearts.  —  A 
Romance. —  "  Stern  Parient."  —  The  Wedding  Day.  — The  Groom's 
Attire.  —  The  Bride's  Dress.  —  A  Good  Custom ;  an  Improvement  upon  it. 
Cheer,  Boy,  Cheer !  —  Mr.  Stricklebat's  Success. —  Miss  Floy  willing.  — 
The  Dinner.  —  Speeches,  Songs,  and  Stories.  —  Amen !  —  A  Dance.  —  A 
Merry  Christmas  and  a  Happy  New  Year. 

HE  inmates  of  Woodbine  Cottage  have  recently 
attended  a  wedding.  It  is  a  pleasant  thing  to  go 
to  a  wedding,  especially  if  you  are  acquainted 
with  the  parties  who  are  to  be  married.  On  the  present 
occasion  both  my  wife  and  myself  had  the  pleasure  of 
knowing  the  bride  and  groom.  The  latter  had  been  a 
friend  of  ours  for  many  years,  though  the  former  was  an 
acquaintance  only  of  a  few  months.  To  say  that  we  were 
surprised  when  we  received  our  invitation  would  but 
slightly  express  our  feelings.  I  was  not  aware,  until 
asked  to  the  wedding,  that  either  of  the  two  knew  each 
other,  although  my  wife  pretended  that  she  knew  all 
about  it.  I  often  think  that  women  possess  an  intuitive 
knowledge  of  these  matters.  When,  therefore,  our  friend, 
the  captain,  told  us,  as  we  sat  around  the  blazing  wood-fire 
the  evening  he  came  home  with  me,  that  he  was  going  to 
be  married,  and,  leaving  the  sea,  and  settling  down  in  the 
country,  become  a  neighbor  of  ours,  I  was  greatly  aston 
ished  ;  nor  was  my  astonishment  diminished  when  he  in 
formed  us  who  he  intended  to  marry.  I  will  give  my 
wife  the  credit  of  saying  —  after  she  learned  the  name, 


OUT  OF   TOWN.  305 

however,  of  the  coming  bride  —  that  she  had  suspected, 
ever  since  the  day  I  took  tea  with  my  old  lady  of  black- 
matan  memory,  that  she  had  an  object  in  inviting  me  to 
her  house  which  I  did  n't  know,  and  now  she  was  certain 
of  it. 

Of  course,  it  was  very  easy  for  Mrs.  Gray,  after  she 
knew  that  it  was  this  old  lady  whom  the  captain  was  to 
marry,  to  state  her  suspicions  as  above ;  but  that  she  had 
not  previously  done  so  I  was  certain,  though  I  did  not  care 
to  ask  her  why  she  had  refrained. 

"  Yes,"  said  the  old  captain,  nursing  his  gouty  leg  upon 
his  knee,  and  puffing  forth  a  cloud  of  tobacco  smoke, 
"  I  promised  the  old  lady,  when  I  was  last  in  port, 
that,  if  I  lived  to  return  from  this  voyage,  I  'd  place 
my  craft  alongside  of  hers,  and,  in  calm  and  in  tempest, 
foul  weather  and  fair,  as  long  as  this  old  hull  kept  above 
water,  we  'd  float  together  on  the  tide,  steering  clear  of 
all  rocks  and  sand-bars  as  lay  in  our  course,  until,  finally, 
the  safe  haven  of  rest  was  reached.  I  feel  good,  my  boy," 
he  continued,  still  stroking  his  leg,  "  for  ten  years  to  come 
on  this  'ere  table-land  ;  and,  though  we  can't  always  tell  as 
to  how  long  we  shall  be  permitted  to  weather  the  gale  of 
life,  yet,  as  I  have  n't  lived  many  of  my  days  on  land,  I 
have  a  notion  that  the  cherub  who  sits  up  aloft  to  keep 
watch  o'er  the  fate  of  poor  Jack,  as  the  song  has  it,  is  n't 
going  to  let  me  be  put  under  hatches  until  I  've  had  a 
chance  to  try  again  the  kind  o'  life  which  Adam  used  to 
lead  in  Paradise  afore  Eve  went  against  orders. 

"  It 's  a  good  many  years,"  continued  the  captain,  putting 
his  unfinished  cup  of  tea  aside,  and  reaching  out  for  the 
black  bottle  which  was  conveniently  beside  him,  "  nigh  on 
to  fifty,  since  I  was  first  married,  and,  though  I  enjoyed  my 
wife's  society  going  on  for  five  years,  most  of  which  time 
we  were  together,  yet  I  knew  little  about  living  on  shore, 
for  I  used  to  take  my  wife  to  sea  with  me  wherever  I  went. 
She  left  me,  one  day,  for  that  better  land ;  and  now  that 

20 


306  OUT  OF   TOWN. 

my  daughters  are  all  married  and  settled,  I  have  an  idea 
that  I  'd  like  to  end  my  days  on  the  land,  and  possess,  once 
more,  the  comfort  of  a  home.  I  've  known  the  old  lady 
ever  since  I  was  a  boy,  for  we  went  to  school  together,  and 
her  husband  and  myself  were  mates,  and  sailed  in  the 
same  ship  many  a  year.  He  went  to  Davy  Jones's  locker 
long  ago,  and  now  I  'm  going  to  marry  his  widow ; "  and 
the  captain  took  a  long  pull  from  the  black  bottle,  heaved  a 
deep  sigh,  and  looked  up  inquiringly  into  my  face. 

"  Well,  I  don't  know,"  I  said,  "  that  you  could  do  bet 
ter  than  marry  my  old  lady.  She  is  a  nice  body,  very 
neat  and  particular  as  regards  the  appearance  of  her  tea- 
table,  and  makes  the  lightest  of  biscuits  and  the  strongest 
of  tea." 

"  I  don't  feel,"  said  the  captain,  "  that  I  care  much  for 
tea;  but  if  she  takes  kindly  to  Jamaica,  hot  and  spiced, 
and  don't  object  to  my  smoking,  I  think  we  may  get  along 
quite  well  together." 

"  Tobacco  smoke,"  I  said,  "  is  a  sure  remedy  for  bugs  on 
plants ;  and  as  she  has  a  fine  collection  of  geraniums,  rose 
bushes,  japonicas,  etc.,  you  can  tell  her  that  you  smoke 
almost  solely  for  the  purpose  of  keeping  her  plants  in  a 
healthy  state.  Then,  too,  she  is  very  fond  of  pets  of  all 
kinds,  and  it  would  not  be  a  bad  idea  for  you  to  present 
her,  for  a  wedding  present,  with  the  monkey  you  were  so 
kind  as  to  bring  my  wife.  I  am  certain  that,  for  such  a 
purpose,  she  would  willingly  resign  it  to  you  again." 

"  No,  no  ! "  exclaimed  the  captain,  "  you  shall  not  be 
called  on  to  give  up  that  monkey.  He  shall  belong  to  you 
and  yours  for  generations  to  come,  and  every  boy  and  girl 
in  your  family  will  find  much  delight  in  his  companion 
ship." 

The  captain  was  evidently  a  little  shy  about  visiting  my 
old  lady  alone,  and  made  me  promise  that  I  would  accom 
pany  him  thither  the  next  day. 

It   was  a  bright,   sunshiny    Sunday  morning  when  the 


OUT   OF  TOWN.  307 

captain  and  myself  drove  over  to  the  Corners,  to  call  on 
my  old  lady.  As  the  captain  left  the  house,  the  goat,  prob 
ably  not  approving  of  the  match,  gave  him  a  taste  of  her 
fighting  powers,  laying  him  sprawling  in  the  dust. 

•'  There  will  be  no  confounded  nonsense,"  said  the  cap 
tain  to  me  as  we  rode  along,  "  between  that  old  lady  and 
myself  when  we  meet.  Hugging,  and  kissing,  and  that 
sort  of  stuff  will  do  well  enough  for  youngsters  like  you, 
but  I'm  too  old  a  bird  for  that  kind  of  work.  It's  enough 
for  me  to  be  tender-like  with  my  daughters,  without  tak 
ing  every  old  woman  into  my  arms  who  comes  along." 

Remembering  this  speech  of  the  captain's,  therefore,  I 
was  somewhat  surprised  to  see  the  warmth  with  which  that 
old  couple  embraced  when  they  met,  and  the  affectionate 
glances  which  they  cast  one  on  the  other.  Still,  it  was  a 
pleasant  sight  to  see  the  simple,  honest  affection  of  those 
two  old  souls,  and  to  know  that,  notwithstanding  their 
silvery  locks,  youthful  hearts  were  beating  in  their  bosoms. 

The  old  lady,  in  the  innocence  of  her  life,  said  :  "  You 
must  excuse  us,  kind  sir,  for  thus  displaying  our  regard  for 
each  other  before  you  ;  but  we  used  to  be  sweethearts 
many  and  many  a  year  ago,  and  though  Providence  willed 
it  that  we  should  not  marry  in  our  youth,  yet  I  think  we 
always  thought  of  each  other  with  kindness,  and,  perhaps, 
hoped  that  some  day  in  the  future  would  find  us  man  and 
wife." 

"  An  event,"  I  said,  "  which  now  promises  very  soon  to 
be  consummated." 

The  old  lady  smiled,  nodded  her  head  approvingly,  and 
folded  her  hands  quietly  upon  her  lap.  The  captain  put 
an  enormous  quid  of  tobacco  into  his  mouth,  and  then 
blew  a  stentorian  blast  upon  his  nose. 

"  From  the  way  in  which  you  speak,  my  dear  old  lady," 
I  said,  "  there  must  have  been  something  of  a  romance  be 
tween  you  and  the  captain  in  your  earlier  days." 

"  Not  much,"  she  replied  ;  "  but  you  know  '  the  course 


308  OUT  OF  TOWN. 

of  true   love,'   as   the   playman   has  it,   '  never   did  run 
smooth.' '' 

"  Ah  !  I  see,"  I  said ;  "  another  case  of  a  '  stern  parient ' 
interfering." 

"  That  was  it,"  she  replied  ;  "  and  though  we  sorrowed 
at  first,  and  were  very  unhappy  for  a  time,  yet,  as  young 
hearts  will,  we  lived  through  it,  and  enjoyed  domestic 
happiness  afterwards  probably  as  well,  kind  sir,  as  most 
people." 

"  And  now,"  I  said,  "  after  many  years,  early  love  is 
resurrected,  and  secret  constancy  rewarded  by  marriage." 

"  Humph  ! "  ejaculated  the  captain. 

As  neither  the  old  lady  or  the  captain  had  any  especial 
preparations  to  make  for  the  occasion,  it  was  agreed  to 
have  the  wedding  take  place  on  the  following  Wednesday, 
and  I  was  delegated  to  see  the  Rev.  Mr.  Stricklebat,  and 
engage  him  to  perform  the  ceremony.  In  the  mean  time 
the  captain  returned  to  his  ship,  the  old  lady  resumed  her 
knitting,  and  I  went  back  to  the  bosom  of  my  family. 

On  the  day  of  the  wedding  the  captain  was  in  the  most 
radiant  of  humors.  He  was  arrayed  in  what,  to  him,  was 
most  gorgeous  attire  ;  a  blue  coat  with  gilt  buttons,  a  buif 
waistcoat,  a  white  necktie,  a  ruffled  shirt,  low-quartered 
shoes,  and  black-satin  breeches,  —  the  relic  of  former  days, 
—  completed  the  adornment  of  the  outer  man.  He  was 
constantly  flourishing  in  air  an  India  handkerchief,  of  red 
silk,  studded  with  white  spots,  which  added  materially  to 
.his  festal  appearance. 

My  old  lady  wore  a  dove-colored  silk  dress,  with  lace 
mitts  of  the  same  color,  and  a  tasty  cap,  trimmed  with 
white  ribbons.  She  was  very  quiet  and  thoughtful,  and, 
just  before  the  ceremony,  passed  around,  with  her  own 
hands,  to  her  guests  a  plate  of  thin,  brittle  cakes,  filled 
with  caraway-seeds,  and  small  glasses  of  currant-wine,  both 
of  which  she  herself  had  made.  This  was  a  custom,  she 
said,  which  had  been  followed  in  her  family  for  many  gen- 


OUT.  OF  TOWN.  309 

erations,  and  was  observed,  not  only  at  weddings,  but  at 
christenings  and  funerals. 

"  And  a  very  good  custom  it  is,  too,"  said  the  captain  ; 
and  then  aside  to  me,  "  though  I  think  the  cakes  might  be 
thicker,  and  the  wine  a  trifle  stronger,  without  injury  to 
any  one.  Come  with  me  quietly,"  he  continued,  "  and  I  '11 
show  you  an  improvement  on  this." 

And  the  captain  led  the  way  to  a  closet  off  of  the  hall, 
where  he  produced  a  black  bottle,  still  half  full  of  Old 
Jamaica,  and  the  remains  of  a  cold  duck. 

"  There,"  said  the  captain,  "  lay  to,  my  boy,  and  help 
yourself.  'T  will  serve  to  keep  your  spirits  up  during  this 
trying  occasion.  Don't  be  down-hearted,  lad,  't  will  soon 
be  over ;  and  though  the  ceremony  is  something  like  going 
through  the  breakers,  it  will  be  plain  sailing  enough  after 
wards.  I  've  gone  over  that  track  once  before,  and  I  know 
all  about  it.  Cheer,  boy,  cheer  ! "  and  the  captain  softly 
whistled  the  air  of  a  sea  ditty,  as  we  went  back  to  the 
parlor. 

To  have  heard  the  captain  talk,  one  would  have  thought 
that  it  was  I  instead  of  he  who  was  about  to  be  married. 

I  have  been  present  at  a  good  many  weddings,  but  at 
none  have  I  been  more  deeply  impressed  with  its  solemn 
character  than  on  this  occasion.  There  stood  two  persons 
who,  nearly  fifty  years  before,  had  loved  each  other,  but 
whom  Fate  had  parted,  and  who  now  came  together  again, 
to  renew  and  consummate  the  vows  made  in  their  youth. 
Many  sorrows  and  many  joys  had  doubtless  been  theirs. 
Children  had  grown  up  around  them,  and,  marrying,  had 
left  them  for  homes  of  their  own ;  and  now,  they  being 
once  more  alone  in  the  world,  turned  again  to  each  other ; 
and,  though  their  once  dark  hair  was  strewn  with  white, 
their  eyes  had  lost  their  brightness,  and  wrinkles  had 
chased  the  bloom  from  their  cheeks,  the  clasp  of  their 
hands  was  as  warm  as  when  they  wooed  and  lost  each 
other  so  many  years  ago. 


310  .OUT  OF   TOWN. 

It  was  conceded  by  all  present  that,  in  the  performance 
of  the  ceremony,  the  Kev.  Mr.  Stricklebat  did  himself 
great  credit,  and  that  his  address  to  the  married  couple 
was  a  model  one  of  its  kind.  It  seemed -to  me,  after  he 
had  concluded  it,  that  he  looked  inquiringly  around  the 
room,  as  if  desirous  of  finding  another  couple  to  hind  in 
the  silken  web  of  matrimony.  Miss  Floy  being  the  only 
marriageable  person  in  the  room,  his  eye  rested  long  and 
earnestly  upon  her ;  but,  however  willing  she  might  have 
been  to  sacrifice  herself,  as  there  was  no  one  present  who 
could,  without  committing  bigamy,  stand  up  with  her  in 
marriage,  the  parson  was  fain  to  postpone,  until  another 
time,  her  victimization.  After  the  ceremony,  "  Now,"  said 
the  captain,  feelingly,  "  let  us  have  a  gay  old  time."  The 
bride  said  we  might  regard  the  occasion  as  her  and  her 
husband's  golden  wedding,  to  which  the  parson  replied 
Amen  !  Then  we  went  to  dinner ;  such  a  dinner  as  comes 
only  at  Thanksgiving  or  Christmas  time,  when  turkeys, 
boiled  and  roasted ;  and  geese  and  ducks,  savory  with 
sage  and  onions  ;  and  chicken-pies,  and  boiled  hams,  and 
great  rounds  of  beef,  and  plum-puddings,  and  apple  and 
pumpkin  and  mince  pies,  flanked  by  tarts  innumerable, 
grace  the  mahogany,  and  still  and  sparkling  wines,  and 
stronger  compounds,  flow  in  profusion. 

After  dinner,  the  captain,  who  grew  more  jolly  as  the 
hours  passed,  made  a  speech,  which,  though  interlarded 
with  an  occasional  objectionable  sailor  epithet,  the  parson, 
nevertheless,  said  Amen  to.  Then  my  savage  literary 
friend  sang  the  song  of  "  Good  Saint  Anthony,"  and  the 
parson  still  said  Amen  !  Afterward,  I  told  a  pathetic  story 
about  a  couple  of  old  babes  who  got  lost  in  a  wood. 
Whereupon  the  parson,  in  his  most  lugubrious  tone,  again 
said  Amen  !  The  truth  was,  that  the  parson  was  satis 
fied  with  everything,  and  had  been  ever  since  I  placed  in 
his  hands,  as  a  fee  from  the  captain,  a  fifty-dollar  green 
back.  He  forgot  to  say  Amen  to  that,  but  made  it  up  after- 


OUT  OF  TOWN.  311 

ward  by  saying  it  when  the  dogs  Gumbo  and  Jack  got  into 
a  fight  over  the  turkey  bones,  and  both  severely  whipped 
each  other. 

The  evening  was  wound  up  with  a  dance,  and  the  cap 
tain  and  his  old  lady,  —  my  old  lady,  alas  !  no  longer,  —  as 
they  footed  it  up  and  down  to  the  tune  of  "  Money-Musk," 
grew  as  light  of  foot  and  as  gay  of  heart  as  when,  a  boy 
and  girl,  they  had  danced  together  fifty  years  before. 
With  many  wishes  for  the  future  health  and  happiness  of 
the  captain  and  the  old  lady,  we  all  bade  them  good-by, 
and  leaving  them  at  home,  went  home  ourselves. 

And  now,  with  this  account  of  a  wedding,  —  a  fitting 
conclusion  to  this  rural  episode  in  my  life,  —  I  will  bid 
farewell  to  those  who  have  followed  me  through  these 
pages,  hoping  to  meet  them  again,  under  still  more  felici 
tous  circumstances. 


THE  END. 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


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